Maybe, Perhaps, Probably So
by achelefan24
Summary: POV fic. Rachel and Quinn are in college. Rachel knows their relationship has grown, but one can only be burned by Quinn Fabray so many times. Sometimes, fate has a way of making all right in the world. This is the story of two girls who are still trying to get it right. M for heart achingly good angst and grammar.
1. Chapter 1: MILK

**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

Chapter 1: M-I-L-K

**Rachel**: Oh! Hello there. What a pleasure to meet you. I am Rachel Barbra Berry.

Please excuse me if my manners are not up to par today; I have been a little distracted. Today is the last day I walk down the halls of McKinley High School as a student because tomorrow we graduate! Next time I walk these halls, should Mr. Schue request my assistance as a trained New York professional or to make a cameo as Lima's only real celebrity during an assembly, I will be an alumnus. Isn't it exciting?

Have you met any of my other Glee Club colleagues? They are all as equally, if not more excited to graduate as I am. While she may not admit it outright, Quinn is extremely anxious to begin her matriculation at Yale and I could not be more proud of her. Considering that she had a near death experience, which I cannot help but feel guilty for, she clearly deserves to be happy.

And Finn, well, after we parted ways, he willingly took over Burt's garage while he fulfills his congressional duties. He always had a knack for spatial recognition of car parts.

But I really should not be gossiping. You should ask them yourself. Now if you will excuse me, I have to finish mentally preparing tonight's wardrobe for Noah's graduation party. Lovely to have met you.

**Quinn**: Fabray. Quinn Fabray, but you can call me Q. Let me guess, Rachel told you? I swear I think she's more excited about Yale than I am. It should be cool. I haven't decided on a major yet. We can't all have a 30-year life plan like Rach, but statistics show that people change their majors 3 times before graduating college anyway. Either way, I'm glad I'll be out on the east coast and in case I need a PowerPoint presentation on the pros and cons of using fabric softener before the final rinse cycle or in one of those time-release balls, Rachel's a little over an hour away.

Santana? Well, she'll be in California, but Brit made her promise to Skype me at least twice a month.

Kurt's going to be pretty close by, too. It sucked that he didn't make it into NYADA, but there are always other schools. He still has plenty of time to decide the right school for him. He's pretty excited to be living in D.C. as Burt's personal stylist for a few months while he figures out his next steps, though. Not that you heard this from me, but I've seen his sketchbook and with a little push and some schooling, I can easily see him working it on TV with Tim Gunn and a ream of tulle.

I guess you could say Rachel and I have become good friends. I swear, if you had told me that 3 years ago, I would have laughed in your face. Things between us really changed after the accident. Not just for me, but everyone. The whole school realized that even the "beautiful and perfect head cheerleader" would die some day.

Life's short, right?

So, finding my ticket out of here and nearly losing everything just as quickly made me realize that the only thing that matters is being happy. Being alive and miserable or vindictive is no way to live. Hell, it's not living at all.

So I say be happy, however that may be, and don't just be, but rather _live_ your life. You'll never know until you let go and try.

Is that valedictorian speech enough for you?

**Rachel**: Excuse me. While I admire Quinn's valor, I do believe she is being rather blasé. Her outlook on life has, I must admit, improved for the better. However, she neglected to mention a few details.

First, she was texting me – _me_ of all people – when she was hit by that idiot's truck.

Second, if I had not pressured her to hurry to my near-wedding because Finn did not want to "lose our spot," she would have seen said idiot's car and could have hit the breaks.

Third, I sat in her hospital room everyday after school and all day on the weekends for nearly two weeks before she was finally released.

Fourth, as a result of the accident she was confined to a wheelchair.

Lastly, if it was not for Artie and me pushing her to work through her rehabilitation, she might _still_ be in that chair.

Just a few minor details.

**Finn**: Hey. Um, my name's Finn Hudson and I'll be graduating this year. I was quarterback of the football team and co-captain of the Glee Club. Uh... I'm not very good at these things. Am I supposed to say a hobby or my favorite food or something?

Ok. Well I'm sure Rachel's told you about me. We used to date. I actually thought we were going to get married, but then Quinn had her accident on the way to our wedding and that made the whole thing feel cursed. I mean she could have died because of us.

I don't know, but maybe everyone was right, we're too young to get married. But I don't think so. Either way, Rach wanted to call the whole thing off. She said it didn't "feel right."

But don't think I went without a fight. I tried everything that girls usually like. I got her flowers, a stuffed teddy bear, and jewelry. I even sang to her. I gave her that smile I know she just can't resist. I even remembered she didn't eat meat and stuff. I tried volunteering to make houses for people who had lost their homes. I showed her the email confirmation and everything. I guess it didn't work.

**Santana**: I'm doing this for Brit Brit and to keep Rachel off my back. Gots it?

K.

So I'm totally blowing this place off, too. Let's be real here, wouldn't you? Lima, Ohio's not exactly the most open-minded metropolitan city, now is it?

**Rachel**: I'm sorry but I cannot let you leave with all of Finn's... inaccuracies. "Meat and stuff?" If Quinn could remember and go out of her way to ensure that any meal she cooked was vegan friendly, and she's only been my friend for a year or so, I think that my _boy_friend of 2 1/2 years should be able to remember that not only do I not eat meat, but any and all animal byproducts! I can understand that the typical non-vegan may not realize that gelatin, found in gummy bears for instance, is in fact non-vegan, but milk chocolate?

Milk. Chocolate.

M-I-L-K.

And his song? I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. Slightly changing the lyrics to a song he sang to his ex-girlfriend and my current best friend, is simply laughable and borderline offensive. No, scratch that. It is not offensive. It's moronic.

I _could_ be having his baby, but I chose wisely against it.

Did he tell you that he volunteered with Habitat For Humanity? Did he also tell you that he stayed up playing video games and eating junk food with Puck too late the night before and decided to "sleep it off" for the entire next day? So much for wanting to "help out people who don't have stuff."

And to think that I almost...

**Quinn**: Great, you got her all worked up. "It's ok, Rach. It's in the past and you've got your whole future in New York. Remember our breathing exercises."

**Finn**: Shit. Did Rachel freak out again? I've never been able to like, fix her or calm her down and stuff when she gets like that. Maybe it's a good thing we didn't work out. I wouldn't know how to deal with her when she loses a part or starts talking about how we need to save the baby seals. She tried to make me a Pita member, but I told her I didn't really like Greek food. She got mad at that, but I can't help it. My stomach can't handle those spices.

**Rachel**: PETA? PETA! You see! He doesn't even realize… He thinks that… Greek food? I just can't even… How many times did I explain that PETA is not a pita!

It goes in one ear and out the other with him! I'm just so… I can't even… and to _think_ that I _almost!_

_MIIIIILLLKK_!

**Santana: **Oh, this is just rich. It's like watching a monkey in a suit trying to work a calculator. Have you seen that youtube video? You can't help but laugh because it looks like he knows what he's doing, but then you realize he doesn't know math. Pushing a button for pushing a button's sake doesn't make you a mathematician.

**Quinn**: Ex_cuse_ me? Why would Rachel not get a part? There's not a doubt in my mind that she can succeed at any part she endeavors.

And he claims that he loves her and believes in her? What a douche.

**Rachel**: I have never noticed how much Quinn and I have in common. For the majority of this summer, Quinn, Santana, Brittany, and I have all bonded more than I could have ever hoped.

Once Mr. Fabray learned of Quinn's acceptance into Yale, he opened up his heart, or his checkbook rather, and tried to show her that he cared for her… in his own way. The Fabray family dynamic is fascinating and so vastly different from mine and although I try my best not to judge, as it is certainly not my place, my heart goes out to Quinn when she is let down or hurt by another one of Mr. Fabray's empty promises.

Notwithstanding, I can happily say that much of our summer was spent happily at the Fabray lake house. Quinn used to spend her summer's there as a child with her sister and parents. Now that everyone has separated, for lack of a better term, the house is nearly empty year round. So as a congratulatory notion, Mr. Fabray let the four of us use the house and jet skis whenever we would like.

Several days have been spent lying about on the deck overlooking the lake allowing the sun's rays to naturally darken our skin, with protection of course. SPF-75 or higher to preserve my youthful appearance and prevent melanoma. While Santana and I are naturally blessed with a tanned skin tone, Quinn has taken on a lovely glow, which, paired with her sun-kissed blonde hair, only makes her that much more beautiful. She might as well submit a picture of herself kicking her feet in the cool lake water to the GAP because she looks like a walking advertisement. It really is unfair for the rest of us.

Brittany is a very talented swimmer as is Santana. I pride myself on my various abilities, but swimming has never been my strong suit. So that means that anytime we play chicken or have swimming races, we split ourselves up with Brittany and Santana on opposite teams. I have a sneaking suspicion that Quinn lets me win whenever it comes down to the two of us in the final leg, but she always feigns ignorance. Who knew Quinn Fabray, former-HBIC, could be so chivalrous?

**Quinn**: I truly loved those nights when the four of us would stay inside, play board games, and talk over some wine coolers. Trust me, getting Rachel to drink again was like asking for a pardon from the Pope, but I have my ways. Being drunk was never the point, though. Maybe it was really more for Santana's and my benefit at first, but we were all able to speak much more freely – more honestly.

Granted, not every conversation was awe inspiring, but every once in a while, we'd all learn a little bit more about the other in such a way that I never thought I'd be sharing so openly.

And some days, well, some days were even that much more special. Brittany and Santana would often scamper off into the boathouse or the surrounding woods, leaving Rachel and me in the main house alone. Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with Brit and Santana, but I also cherish the time I get to spend with Rachel one-on-one, having lost so many years to my own insecurities. I can never forgive myself fully for treating her the way that I did, and I've told her as much. She's such a kind person and even though she says it's all in the past, it'll always be something that plagues me.

Last Friday, Brittana snuck off to the hammock in the woods for some alone time, as usual. But this time was different. I was braiding Rachel's hair because even though I prefer my hair short, I miss having a long braid. That, and Rachel looks really good in a braid. As my fingers were working on auto-pilot, our conversation turned toward a… more intimate nature? Ok, we started talking about sex. But talking about sex as teenagers isn't weird, right? Girls talk about sex all the time. It's perfectly normal.

I didn't really have much to contribute to the conversation, seeing as how my one experience ended in the worse case scenario for a teenager. Hearing about Rachel's first time, albeit vaguely, made my stomach physically hurt and maybe pull at her hair a little harshly, but from what I gathered it wasn't earth-shattering. That made me a little happy. Rachel, however, knew exactly what she was expecting in her ultimate partner and the way she described how she imagined having sex with the right person would make her feel… well I couldn't help myself. I found my fingers no longer braiding her hair, but instead scratching her scalp and lazily running through her hair.

I don't know how it happened, but there was Rachel sitting in front of me Indian style, leaning her back on my front with my fingers pulling through her hair as I stared at her parted lips and the satisfied sounds escaping her throat. She was just so – sexy. My hands couldn't help themselves; they had a mind of their own. One hand kept playing with her hair, while the other began messaging her shoulders, occasionally dipping down to her collarbones. I could feel her breath quickening. She wasn't moaning anymore and other than my labored breathing, neither of us dared to make a sound. The weirdest thing was that she didn't stop me. Her skin felt so good beneath my hands and the fruity scent of her hair was making me hazy.

The next thing I knew, both of my hands were massaging her shoulders and dipping beneath the collar of her loose fitting V-neck t-shirt, closer and closer to her chest. She was pushing her head back onto my chest allowing me a better view and my mouth was right against her neck. There's no way my hot breath wasn't wetting her neck. But she let me.

If it wasn't for Santana and Brittany coming back into the house with a start, I don't know what would have happened. They came in through the back door, so we had enough time in the living room to pull apart and gather our senses.

We didn't have anything to drink that night. What the hell do you think all of that means?

**Brittany**: I'm super excited for our sleepover tonight, but I'm also kinda sad. Rachel and Q are gonna be leaving next week and so will San and me. Well, I'm not leaving leaving, but I'm gonna help San settle in and then fly back home. One year will fly by fast, right? San told me not to think about it and I'm really trying not to.

There's always sexting and Skype.

We're driving to California because San says that you have to drive _every_where and she'll need her car. I don't really care, but I know that our road trip will be really fun. _And_ she promised we could stop at the Grand Canyon to see the cute mountain goats!

**Quinn**: I shouldn't be surprised that I'm the last to show up. Santana and Brittany practically live together and Rachel's always at least 15 minutes early.

"Quinn, to be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is unacceptable."

So although I'm late, I have a good excuse. I couldn't find Rachel's favorite brand of vegan mozzarella cheese, Daiya™, and had to drive 30 minutes to the next town over. We're making vegan pizzas tonight and I wanted everything to be perfect, especially if we're going to convince Santana that vegan food isn't half bad.

I'm not gonna lie, the first time Rachel had made me vegan sausage and mushroom pizza, I had no idea it wasn't real meat! So when it comes to eating her cooking, I'm definitely a fan.

Walking in on Brittany and Rachel in an intense paper, rock, scissors match while Santana referees is something everyone should witness once in their lives.

All three chant, "Paper, rock, scissors, shoot!"

"Cheating! That's cheating! You can't do that Rachel! That's not a real thingy!"

"Oh I can assure you it is real, Brit. This is the symbol for 'treasure chest' and it is nearly indestructible."

"What? No, that's not real at all! I let in jackhammer, volcano, and invisibility, but I've never heard of treasure chest and believe me, as president of Lima's Little Mermaid fan club, I would know. San, help me out."

Apparently Rachel rubs off on everyone.

I watch Santana mull it over.

"Actually, I think I've heard of it," I contribute. "However, it can be beaten by a key, a torch, or by the god symbol."

"I don't know. I've never heard of that," Santana says while looking at Brittany.

"Well, what did you throw, B?" I inquire.

"You can't tell?"

All three of us stare at her contorted hands.

"Is it a walrus?" Santana asks.

"Nope. It's a magic lamp, and according to Aladdin, I get three wishes. I wish for your treasure chest to open. So I win!"

Two pizzas and three pitchers of organic lemonade later, we turn to more serious conversations about our lives and futures.

I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy toward Brittany and Santana. They have their stuff figured out, you know? They have each other. San may be moving to a new city and have new possibilities waiting for her, but she won't be alone. She has Brittany to share everything with. She has a rock. And to imagine that Santana would cheat on Brittany and break her heart is silly. San would throw herself in front of a train before that happened.

And me? What or who do I have? No one. Nothing.

And it's not that I _need_ someone, it's just that, I don't know. It would be nice to have someone to share in my happiness when something goes right or I make new friends. Maybe even someone to share a soy hot chocolate with. That's not asking for too much, is it?

**Rachel**: I do not mean to toot my own horn, but my vegan pizzas have been a hit! After a few lewd questions from Santana and a legitimate concern of becoming a vegetable herself by Brittany, a crumb could not be found.

I am so excited to live in New York! Hearing Santana and Brittany talk about their upcoming epic road trip and San's new apartment in LA, I cannot help but wonder how I am going to decorate my apartment, what restaurants I will frequent, what people I will meet, and of which shows I will land a leading role. New York has always been my dream and realizing that I almost abandoned it because of Finn, reaffirms that the choices I have made are the right ones. Please do not mention I said that to Quinn because then she will say, "I told you so."

That is the ironic part. She really did.

However, that is beside the point. We are all having such a wonderful time and I cannot help but feel a precipitant sense of loss.

"You guys," I interject. "I know that we are having a good time and I cannot help but feel so grateful for having you all in my life, but I wanted to say that I wish we had done this sooner because this is our last chance to all be together. I am going to miss you all so much. And by this, I mean become friends."

Brittany reaches for Quinn's and my hands with tears in her eyes.

"Whoo! I totally know what you mean, but that shit's too deep right now," Santana says as she fans her face and stares at the ceiling.

"I love you too, Santana," I answer.

**Santana**: Look. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent. We don't do these kinds of things and if you tell anybody that I was crying because I'm going to miss Rachel, then you're gonna find out whether or not I really hide razors in my hair.

Glad we had this talk.

Now this shit is way too heavy for me and Q.

"Shots!"

**Brittany**: I love shots! "Body shots!"

**Quinn**: You don't think her comment was targeted at anyone in particular, right? She was definitely addressing the whole group. "And by this I mean, you know, become friends." Gah, her insecurities are just so heartbreakingly cu-

Screw it. I need a shot to loosen up the mind cobwebs.

"While I do not mind having a wine cooler with you ladies, I cannot take a shot. I do not know my limit and I do not intend to test it tonight," Rachel pleads.

"Oh please, you had a great time the last time you took a shot. You made out with Blaine and karaoked your heart out. Besides this is the safest place you could be drinking in to figure out what your limit is before you get to college… in New York… with strangers… who want to slip you a rufi," Santana rationalized. "Live a little, Berry! It's our last night."

I nod my head because Santana has a point.

A bottle of Jose Cuervo later and I've discovered a few life lessons.

1) Tequila goes down easier after the third shot.

2) Santana's body is very very warm.

3) Rachel's tongue may have more talent than my whole body.

5) I like feeling fuzzy. And I don't remember changing into a tank top and my cheer shorts.

8) Oh yeah, and Brittany can stick her whole fist in her mouth.

**Rachel**: "Tequila! I loves me somes tequila. Teh-Key-Laaaaahhhh!"

**Brittany**: "The Pee Wee Herman dance!" I _have_ to jump on the coffee table and join Rachel in one of my top five favorite dances.

**Quinn**: I don't think I can stay awake much longer. The tequila is putting me to sleepy. That, and it's getting kind of awkward because _Brittana_ over here keep randomly making out!

"We're not all in relationships, you know. Get a room!" I yell.

"Get a life," Santana yells back.

"We will! But first, I have to get you and Rachel a full glass of water, each. Drink it all and I promise you'll feel fine tomorrow," Brit offers. The alcohol seems to have no affect on her motor skills.

"Thanks, Brit."

We – Rachel and I – are so exhausted we don't even bother pulling out the hide-away mattress in the living room couch. Instead, we throw down some blankets on the floor as a makeshift mattress and cover up with a sheet. The heat radiating off of her tiny frame seems unnatural.

"They're happy, aren't they?" I ask the room.

"They really are. They're lucky, you know. I am certain we will be like that some day," Rachel's soft voice responds.

"Happy? Lucky?"

"In love."

… I think I'm going to die.

"How are you so sure?" I ask tentatively.

"Because if happy endings didn't exist, then what would be the point in living?"

I really hope she's right. Leave it to Rachel to always be an optimist even when she's drunk.

"Goodnight Rachel."

**Rachel**: "G'night Quinn."

Quinn and I will be happy and in love some day, I just know it. I can only hope to find love in New York. How can I not? It's such a romantic city.

Quinn will find it, too. Who knows, maybe her person has been waiting for her in New Haven all along or maybe she's already met them.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2: To New Beginnings

**A/N**: A big shout out and thanks to my beta, FeelingGrey! I hope you're all enjoying this fic so far. We've got a looong way to go! Also, this fic will always be written from each character's perspective throughout. This is an exercise in "voice."

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Glee's characters or Glee, but I _do_ own the angst and original storylines.

* * *

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 2: To New Beginnings

**Quinn**: Wow. Wow is really the best way to describe Yale. Walking on a campus that is nearly 300 years old really makes you feel like you're a part of American history or in a Dan Brown novel. Everything is so beautiful here – the weather, the architecture, the flora – everything.

Different is also a good descriptor. Everyone here is so polite and welcoming, yet reserved. It's hard to put into words. That, and the heightened IQ level is very obvious. During orientation, I met some freshmen that were starving to show off how smart they think they are by using a larger vocabulary than they're actually used to.

"I hail from Santa Barbara, California and made the odyssey to this prestigious university via my father's private plane, some two nights ago. I intend on double majoring in Biomedical Engineering and Chemistry prior to attending medical school. And you are?"

Right. Some people have a natural knack for speaking in paragraphs or using large words, but when it's forced, you can tell. It's like wearing shoes that are two sizes too big; put your two-dollar words away because you're making a fool of yourself. Believe me, as a person that used to wear a façade day in and day out to be accepted, it takes one to know one.

I can only hope I don't have to live with one of them. Our housing is randomly selected for us, but you can always list preferences. I was hoping for Branford, Saybrook, or Berkeley, in that order, and I lucked out in getting into a four-person suite in Saybrook. While it may not have the exact same notoriety as Branford, architecturally it's the most comparable, has beautiful gardens, _and_ my room in the tower, so you won't hear any complaining from me. Who knows, I've yet to move in and meet my new roommates, but I can only hope they're not OCD or Bible thumpers. That's the last thing I need. Also, I hope they don't act like people from Jersey Shore. Now _that's_ the last thing I'd need.

My parents, yes plural, are beaming with pride as we are ushered along with the rest of my incoming class throughout orientation. It's almost nauseating how much they're eating this stuff up, but I won't deprive them of this bit of happiness and calm. As long as they're not fighting, I'll play nice. I'm sure once they get back to Lima they won't be able to stop from bragging about Yale this and Yale that. Yale Yale Yale Yale. But I also know that once they leave, my reasons for returning to Lima will be nil because they'd rather have me slaving away in a dungeon over books and my trusty laptop to ensure I graduate summa cum laude than have me back home and have people question, "If you go to Yale, what brings you back to Lima?" The implications of failure will be too much for them to bear. It's pretty ingenious if you ask me.

I'm grateful that I'm going to meet with an advisor to plan my schedule because I know that if my parents had their say, I'd be taking biology, chemistry, and physics in the same semester.

"Quinnie, we've always wanted to have a doctor in the family," my mother constantly not so subtly pushes.

But I don't really know who I want to be.

What.

I meant I don't really know what I want to be… yeah.

**Rachel**: I love New York. Have I said that yet? I am most certain that I have. I love New York and everything thing it has to offer. I can practically feel the dreams of the countless hopeful young people who come to find themselves in this city, because if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

Or so Frank says, but he was one of the greats. Can you imagine? Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Patty Lupone, Ella Fitzgerald, Liza Minnelli, the incomparable Barbra Streisand, and Rachel Berry. Yes, that would be something.

I have never been known as one to take "baby steps" so as you can imagine, I have been watching audition postings like a hawk. Small off-Broadway productions are not beneath me because everyone must start somewhere and regardless of the stage, my debut will be _in_ New York. My life's dreams are so close I can taste them and they taste sweet, like gold-colored cotton candy.

Where was I? Dreams - sweet - candy- oh yes! New York and NYADA!

One of the greatest appeals to NYADA, besides the obvious, was the living arrangements. Because of its exclusivity, NYADA does not have dorm rooms in the traditional sense, but rather what they call "student apartments." My apartment, 424B, was part of a large two bedroom that has now been split in two (hence the A & B units), leaving my roommate and me with a decent sized one bedroom. Call it a glorified dorm if you wish, but I am thankful that I do not have to share a restroom with hundreds of other people and can enjoy cooking in my own kitchen and reading the paper in the comfort of my own living room.

You will be pleased to know that I placed into the second level of music theory, not that I expected anything less, and have made acquaintance with my roommate, Sara. She is a deceptive character. At first blush, she looks like a cross between Emma Stone and Zooey Deschanel, a brunette quirky girl next door, but then she smacks her gum and opens her mouth and a thick accent from the Bronx comes out and throws you for a loop. "I'm Sah-raw!" I was surprised to say the least. From our brief interaction and short lunch together yesterday, I have learned she is a skilled actor and specializes in accents. You should hear her Madeleine Albright!

Tomorrow, Wednesday, I have my first costumes class. Now, I know what you are thinking, "Rachel, stars do not sew costumes," but then you would be failing to realize that I believe in a complete holistic understanding of my craft and it may, in the future, provide me with an advantage to offer a suggestion that will not only accurately reflect the time period but also display my hard earned assets to their fullest. One can never be too prepared. But do not be misguided. This class focuses on the history of clothing, not the actual making of said garments.

Oh! I must not forget to mention Central Park. We used to talk about reading books beneath the trees in Central Park during the summer, and now that I am here, I am going to alter my workout routine slightly to include a jog in the brisk morning air of the park on the weekends over the school's ellipticals. Besides, if you are not at the gym by 5 a.m., you will have to wait for at least an hour to have access to a machine because fitness is as important to an actor as is running lines and I would not want to compromise my time for someone else.

**Quinn**: Ok, so I've picked my classes! My course advisor, Dr. Lee, was a very nice Chinese woman. She was very pretty with a kempt short bob. I couldn't quite place her age. It was as if she was timeless, but that's typical of Asian women, isn't it? My initial guess would have been 30, but then again, she was a professor who teaches a lot of different upper level English classes and I know that that doesn't come without being a person of authority.

Regardless, she put me at ease and was very understanding of my indecision. She said that that was typical of freshmen, but how true that is at Yale, I'm not sure. After some deliberation, I signed up for: Major English Poets; Latin American Film: Brazil, Mexico, Argentina; The Bible – a breakdown of the Bible's interpretations to both Judaism and Christianity; Intro to Black & White Photography; and Intro to Psych. A nice hodge podge, don't you think? I'm pretty excited to start school now!

Also, I've finally met all four of my roommates. I was the second person to arrive in our suite. My mother gave a quick judgmental look over the room and must have found everything to her liking because she didn't make any comments. The first roommate I met was a very young and innocent looking girl with long flowing black hair. Her name is Prama and she is a first generation American after her parents immigrated to the US from India. My parents didn't like the sound of that until it was apparent her parents are both doctors and Prama is here to follow suit.

"Quinnie's thinking about being a doctor, too! Looks like you just found a study buddy. I'm counting on you to keep an eye out on her, Prama," my mother said with a wink.

Soon our third roommate came in, a tall slender blonde haired girl from Alabama with a voice that carried. She reminded me of Brittany instantly, not because she was a dancer, but by virtue that she is so confident and comfortable in her own body. I instantly envied Hazel's levity. She's a French major and hopes to start her own travel business to Europe and Africa. Isn't that neat? My father muttered something under his breath at her future goals. Ass.

Finally, our last roommate made her entrance and to my pleasure, shut my parents up. I don't know what part of her got my attention first, maybe it was her pink hair, or the fact that it was cut in a faux-hawk, or maybe it was her 505's with a short-sleeved plaid button up and leather wrist cuffs, or maybe it was the rainbow flag on her backpack, or the fact that she screamed I'm a butch lesbian. Either way, she looked cool and she was beautiful. Imagine a butch not so bitchy version of Santana. My parents didn't know what to say or where to look. It was rich.

"Hi everybody, sorry I'm late. I was just showing _mi abuela_ to the restroom. I'm Sonia, but everyone calls me Sunny."

This is going to be interesting.

**Santana: **UCLA's cool. I dig it, but I miss my Britts. People here drive like shit, but they leave me alone and I leave them alone. My roommate is this loud-mouthed Korean girl and I swear she's my sister from another mister. I'll tell you one thing, we're never going to run out of rice, that's for sure.

Anyway, on to more important things. Did Quinn mention anything to you?

What? Oh I can't say. That's her deal. I really don't know anything. I just thought she might have opened up to you.

Say hi to Berry for me, will you? I give her 3 weeks before she uses her mace on some guy or finds herself lost in the middle of the city.

**Quinn**: I don't know what Santana's talking about and neither does she, so please just drop it. Thank you in advance.

**Rachel**: I have never felt more humiliated, humbled, and satisfied in the same week and that includes the week I seriously considered rhinoplasty. My voice lesson this week was productive, although my professor made me feel as if I have been getting by on my raw talent, alone.

She said, "Rachel, you feel but you don't understand. Do you understand?"

I thought I did, but after thinking about it for some time, I came to the conclusion that I do not. What does that even mean. What is so wrong with feeling a song? What more do you need to understand than to understand every syllable, every dynamic marking, every key change, and from what pit of despair or coital high my character is experiencing?

No, Madame, I do not understand. I hope this will not be a problem.

However, on Friday, we had our first studio class where we each got to sing for all of the students who take lessons with my professor, Madame Tibideaux. Now, I do not wish to speak ill of people, but I can safely say that my solo was in the top three and was the best of the freshmen. Although I did not receive my usual standing ovation that I am used to from the Glee club, people said that I did a "good job," which is code for, "I hate that you're better than me."

I can only go up from here! I wish that I could share this with… with Quinn. Has she said anything about anything in general? It's just that – that I miss her. She is my best friend and with Kurt so far away, I just – I know that she would understand and listen to everything I had to say with earnest.

I do not like this, this whole not speaking to each other thing. It feels weird. It has been, what, nearly two weeks? I have been grateful that school has started and has kept me occupied, but that does not mean that our daily conversations are not missed. Could you ask her for me? No, I suppose not. I should do it, you need not get in the middle of this, not that there is a "this" or anything of the sort, but that – just – well, never mind. Forget I said anything. I will deal with it.

_From: Rachel Berry (RBerry at NYADA dot edu)_

_To: Quinn Fabray ( at Yale dot edu)_

_Dearest Quinn,_

_I hope that your first week at Yale has been everything you had hoped. My first week at NYADA has been a whirlwind of events, people, a near textbook purchasing fiasco, lessons, and music music music! New York is wonderful, as well, although I know it will take some time to learn the lay of the land._

_You would be proud of me because I am actually getting along with my roommate contrary to popular belief that divas must live alone. Well, I am sure you must be busy, but if you have some time, I would love to talk to you. Skype me? Say, tomorrow, Sunday, at 1pm? I will be logged in, just in case._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Rachel Berry *_

**Quinn**: It could have been worse. I snuck down to a little corner in the buttery, which is this cafeteria/common room/kitchen/whatever you want type space in the basement where people go to hang out or take a break from studying or whatever. Anyway, our Skype da- chat, went well considering.

I could tell Rachel was nervous because even though I couldn't see her hands, she could barely look me in the eye and her right eyebrow would involuntarily twitch as if it were trying to tell me a secret message through Morse code. Rachelberryitis is contagious. Do you see how quickly she can have you speaking in paragraphs, too? But anyway, yeah. I got to hear about her week and her crazy roommate from the Bronx whom I'm trying not to jump to conclusions about. Rachel, always wanting to be over-prepared by reading her first assigned materials in advance, without a syllabus mind you, nearly had to arm wrestle some other freshman for the last musical theater history book the bookstore had in stock. Listening to her re-tell the story, I wish I could have seen the other girl's red sequins fly in the air as her purse strap popped.

Imagine that, little miss Rachel Berry a thug. Puck and Santana would be proud.

After that story, she finally opened up a bit. I must say she looks good. The New York air must be doing wonders for her and is already taking effect because she wants to get a tattoo! I asked if that would affect her abilities to land roles and that sent her off on a tirade about numerous famous actors and Broadway stars who have tattoos. Ok then, Rachel Berry is going to get a tattoo. I told her I'd support her so long as it's not a portrait of Barbra, a tramp stamp, or a significant other's name.

**Rachel**: She looks happy and I am apprehensive to say that I knew I had missed her, but after our Skype chat, I did not fathom as to what extent. Is it odd to miss your best friend so fiercely? Well, I do not care if it is or is not, but that is how I feel. I have missed her smile and laughter, her voice and her pensive stare. Quinn means so much to me and I wish that I had the courage to ask her about – well, it is not important. What _is_ important is that I have resolved myself to call and/or text Quinn everyday from now on. No matter how busy or stressed I may be, I will make it a point.

Her roommates sound like an interesting bunch but I could not help notice how excited, or maybe hopeful, her face became when she spoke about Sunny. Has she mentioned her to you before?

Well at any rate, you know I believe that sexuality is fluid, and having two gay dads, I could care less who anyone sleeps with, or doesn't, for that matter. Do I have my suspicions of Quinn? Of course I do. Do I think she has been suppressing certain feelings? Yes. Do I know to what extent? No, but I suspect that brunettes may be her type… although Sam was a blonde… I just, I never thought she would find a "butch" woman attractive. Do you think she thinks she's attractive?

Now don't jump to conclusions, it's just that I never thought Quinn would jump into the dating scene so quickly and _especially_ not with one of her _roommates_! Can you imagine how awkward that could become should it not last?

I tried to talk about it, you know. About the summer – not the message if that's what you're thinking, but she deftly moved onto a different subject. After four attempts, I dropped the unwelcome topic. You can't say I didn't try… but she did offer to come with me to get my first tattoo. She insisted she be here to hold my hand in the event that it was too painful.

She is so thoughtful.


	3. Chapter 3: QNYEEWS

**A/N: Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 3: QNYEEWS

**Quinn**: Intro to psych is a basic freshman weed-out class, which basically means I sit in an auditorium with about 60 other people give or take with the hopes that at least 15% of them fail or drop psych as a major completely. This is a subject that I know little to nothing about but has always fascinated me. I sit here and absorb every little detail like a sponge. I've never been a huge note taker and by that I mean I'm not a stenographer. That's not my learning style. I listen, internalize, and then condense or formulate what's just been said onto my notebook. I guess that makes me an auditory learner, which totally explains why I prefer live music.

_Fabray, you're a genius already._

Regardless, psych fascinates me. The other day we learned about the human brain. This was the one thing I kind of already knew a bit about from my AP Biology class Senior year, but we really went deep into it this time. This is college, and Yale, so that should have been a given. We learnt about memories and something called false memories. I don't want to get too in depth on it but the human brain can basically make up false memories that we believed happened in real life. Like come on, how fascinating is that?

We have a midterm next week on the basic history of Psychology and the Psychologists that have pioneered some major areas in the study and also about the functioning of the Central Nervous System of the body, which is a smart way of saying the brain, spinal cord, and neurons. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Although I've been making flash cards and studying like a fiend, I'm excited for this test because then I can finally make the trip to visit Rachel and she can finally get her tattoo. She's decided on getting a small discrete gold star because "they are kind of my thing" or so she says and you know how into metaphors she is.

I want to experience _her_ New York and visit _her_ restaurants. I even want to meet her scatterbrained roommate. The leaves have already begun to change colors here in New Haven, so I can only imagine how beautiful it is there, but in my head it looks like it does in _You've Got Mail_. If only the Little Shop Around the Corner was real.

My English class is alright, but I've quickly learned that English isn't my forte. It's not that I'm bad at it, it just doesn't really interest me. Now my film class is way cool. We basically watch Latin films and then talk about them. We have to write a paper centered on a theme of one of the movies we've watched. I think I'm going to choose this movie called _Sin Nombre_ about some kids from Honduras who hop trains all the way to the US for a better life. But more than that, it's a sad yet eye-opening narrative of the brutal realities of drug cartels and their unrelenting strength and brutality. So, I'm sure I can come up with something.

My Bible class has been a lot of work, too. For a girl who's been in a church since she was born, there's a lot that I didn't know. Call it selective preaching or teaching, or maybe I missed the message. The class is taught from a non-devotional historical standpoint. My professor was raised by a Christian father and Jewish mother and was raised with both religions having equal importance. He's also a Latin and Ancient Greek nut, so learning that the original versions of words have multiple possible meanings has really changed my perception on a lot of issues – like being gay. It's funny, my parents are so happy when I tell them I spend at least six hours reading the Bible and biblical history books a week. My dad said, "Good. We don't need those bleeding heart liberals to taint your beliefs." If he only knew.

**Rachel**: Quinn's coming to visit me in T-minus 27 hours! My only midterm was on Tuesday morning, so I have spent the remainder of my time planning a Quinntastic New York Extravaganza Extended-Weekend Spectacular!

We will see the sights, watch The Book of Mormon on Broadway because everyone can say nothing but good things about it, sit and talk and perhaps play a board game in a cute coffee shop, do a little shopping, get my tattoo, and walk hand-in-hand in Central Park… if she'd like, that is. I can't believe I just said that out loud, but it feels good… to admit it or to hear it out loud or to say it to someone other than myself and Mr. Snuggles.

Yes, I would love to walk hand-in-hand with Quinn anywhere. Now the trick is to get her to want to do that back.

_Shit_.

I'll work on it.

Back to the topic at hand. New York is simply gorgeous during October. The wind is crisp with enough bite to flirtatiously tell you that Winter is coming, yet still sunny and even-tempered to stay outside for a long stroll. But do you know my favorite thing about October? Pumpkins! Vegan pumpkin pie. Pumpkin spice. Vegan pumpkin muffins. Vegan pumpkin cookies. Vegan pumpkin cupcakes. Soy pumpkin spice lattes. Really, I could go on for hours, but I am certain you catch my drift.

My dads used to tease me when I was little and tell me that if I kept eating all those cookies, I was going to turn into a pumpkin, as well. I really think that was a deceitful parenting tactic to scare me into eating one cookie per night. Can you imagine how frightening it is to think that your slender eight-year old self was going to blow up into a very large round orange pumpkin? That was simply downright dastardly, but it worked.

I wonder if Quinn fervently loves pumpkins like myself.

Oh! Quinn is also going to meet Sara. She is going to join us for our first dinner before Sara goes home to the Bronx for the rest of the weekend. If you could see me now, you would know that I am doing my happy dance. What else has happened of note?

Well, Quinn and I have been texting and chatting with one another quite regularly. She texts me good morning because I do not wish to wake her during my morning 5 a.m. ritual, and I call her and wish her good night when I turn in to bed after my late night rehearsals. Rehearsals! Yes I forgot to mention, and how clumsy of me, I won the audition for a lesser role in an original work written by one of NYADA's senior playwright majors. The musical is set during the Great Depression and centers around the star-crossed lovers of a tobacco plantation owner's son and the daughter of a plantation worker who works the plantation herself. I play one of the daughter's friends. I play Judith/Plantation Worker #4. I think it is an admirable start for myself. Opening night is around Valentine's Day weekend next semester and Quinn said she would not miss it for the world.

**Sunny**: Hey, I'm Sunny. How's it goin'? Q's a real sweet girl. I think all four of us really lucked out because we've all bonded like a really weird group of sisters. We're an interesting family that's for sure.

I'm a Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies major. Go figure, right? I've known who I am since I was about four. My mom enrolled me in an early pre-school program and after one week, I came home and told her that I had a crush on Jessie… as in Jessica. It was love at first push on the swing.

My mom's always been cool with it and my_ 'uela_, too. My dad's never been in the picture so I can't speak on his behalf. I'm sure some people would say that he's the reason that I'm gay but that's bull.

That's how I bonded with Q. My story really resonated with her. She told me how much it sucked growing up in her house with her super conservative parents in Ohio, so I can understand why she feels… conflicted. Either way, I took her to a few LGBTQ meetings to expose her to the variations on a theme that is sexuality. She said she has gay, bi, and lesbian friends, but there's so much more than those labels. To say that I blew her mind is an understatement.

I'm not going to lie, taking her to the meeting was like showing up with a peacock. Everyone – boys, girls, trans – couldn't help but swoon, become her best friend, or flat out hit on her during her first meeting. Her friend Rachel's lucky I'm into girls with a little more spice, _wink wink nudge nudge_. Not that Q said anything about dating her, but the way she talks about her… well, maybe I'm seeing what I want to see, but she might as well start calling her her girlfriend with the way she sneaks off to the kitchen down the hall when Rachel calls or she sends her pictures of random little things that she thinks Rachel would like. Their relationship is something we haven't talked about explicitly, so this weekend should be interesting.

Q asked to come back with me to the next meeting, so I guess she liked it. I hooked her up with my buddy Jo who's a liaison to the Queer Peers program in case she wants to talk to someone she doesn't live with about anything, everything, and nothing at all. A safe place, you know?

**Rachel**: T-minus 30 minutes!

**Quinn**: Oh my God what did Sunny say to you? Why are you giving me that look? I see her like a sister, ok, that'd never happen.

Focus here people! I just texted Rachel that we have 15 minutes until we reach the bus depot. I hope I brought enough clothes because Rachel didn't tell me everything she had planned for us. At least I have the credit card my father gave me in case of emergencies. I'm so excited because the Manhattan skyline was so beautiful on the drive in. I can see why Rachel loves it here so much.

My palms are sweaty and I think I may make a hole in my lip if I keep gnawing on it, but I can't shake these nerves. I know I've seen Rachel plenty of times on Skype, but seeing her in person is so different. This will be the first time I've been able to hug her since two days before we both left for college. If we pick up where we left off… well I'm not sure I could handle that right now. I must have been lost in my thoughts because the bus' air breaks are whishing us to a stop.

I'm here.

She's here waiting for me in the crowd, but I don't see her. Oh of course! There she is. How could I miss her standing in smack dab in the middle of the throng of people in her multicolored striped jacket? She's always been a bright beacon in a sea of neutrality.

I can't believe we're actually here – in the same city – together.

"There you are," she says excitedly as if she just spotted me in a game of hide-and-seek.

"Here I am," I say just as surprised as I pick her up into a big bear hug. God how I've missed Rachel Berry. I'm smiling into her hair and willing the tears in my eyes to stay at bay.

"I found you," she says softly into my hair. I can hear the smile in her voice and squeeze her a little tighter.

"Would you like me to fetch your bag?" she asks once her feet touch the ground. I haven't let go of her yet; I'm not quite ready. I can't help but laugh at her formal hospitality.

"No offense, Rach, but I'm pretty sure you'd fall over in your little shoes if you tried to take my bag."

"Excuse me, but what's wrong with my shoes, Quinn? I, for one, happen to think they're cute!" she says with her fists on her hips slightly flustered. There's the Rachel Berry I know. "And besides, you are _my_ guest, and as such, I should be the one to make your trip as lovely and enjoyable as possible."

"Well I would _enjoy_ taking my own suitcase," I say as I pull my bag from under the bus and hold it in my left hand while throwing my right arm over her shoulders, "so that I can _enjoy_ your company back to your place."

I can't tell if she's blushing because of the way I'm standing with her or if she's cold, but I'll take it.

"Ahem! Well, I have a cab waiting for us and it is a good thing too seeing the size of your luggage. Gosh, did you plan on moving here? Plus, we can save time for more important activities."

_Activities, ay? What kind of activities are we talking here?_

"Well you didn't tell me what we were going to be doing, so I tried to prepare myself."

"You shall see, Ms. Fabray; it's a surprise. Come on, the cab is just around the corner, hopefully."

The cab driver popped the trunk but didn't come out to help me put my bag in. Rude. Thank God for some of my residual muscle from Coach Sylvester's workouts. Rachel tried to help but ended up directing me more than anything.

"Lift with your legs. Yeah, bend and grab it from the bottom. With your legs, Fabray!"

"You just want a nice view, perv."

Whoops, that may not have been the right thing to say. She's suddenly too quiet.

"Joking. I'm joking, Berry. Lighten up."

"Right," she laughed nervously, "your chariot ma lady."

Once Rachel gave the cabbie the directions and a very specific preferred route, he quickly realized that this petite brunette knew her stuff and took off as fast as possible. Rachel took charge like she owned this bitch.

_That was…different… and definitely hot. _

"Wait, Rach you grabbed a cab without knowing the size of my bag. Are you sure you're not avoiding taking the metro? You know I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. I don't mind taking public transportation."

"I know you are, Quinn, but I have heard far too many stories about muggings and thefts of people with luggage in the metro to intentionally place you in that kind of danger or harm."

That's sweet. A little overprotective, but sweet.

"That's very sweet of you Rachel, thank you. I just didn't want you to have to pay extra for a cab if you didn't have to."

I offered to pay for the cab, but she waved me off. Before I knew it, the old grimy buildings began to morph into modern architectural works of art with bright lights and moving advertisements so crammed together it was a wonder how any one stood out enough to properly do its job.

Before Rachel could pay the driver, he rushed to the back and took out my luggage. Surely he was hoping for a good tip. That, and it was also his way of standing out from the other taxis who are, as I can only presume, just as rude as this driver was initially. Imagine that, manners will get you noticed in the city.

Rachel stepped up to a rehabbed red brick five-story building. _So far so good. _424B gleamed in gold in front of my eyes and I noticed that the numbers on her door were brighter than any of the others in her hallway.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Rachel said as she slid her pink Hello Kitty covered gold key into the third and final heavy-duty dead bolt. She stepped inside the narrow entrance way and held the door open for me.

"Sara? We're home!"

"Woah! Since when does Rachel Berry scream her arrival like she works at a sandwich counter in a crowded deli during rush hour?"

"Sorry. Sara watches the TV loudly so unless I want to scare her to death, I shout when I come home. That, and I walked in on her and her boyfriend in a... compromising position once. So really, it is in my best interest to make my presence known."

"A compromising position? You really do have a gift, Rachel. You can spin any bad situation into something more palatable."

"Thank you, Quinn. I really do try."

"I wish I could have seen your face when you discovered said 'compromising position.' I imagine you looked like a combination of Finn's mailman face and Coach Sylvester's face that time she caught Brittany and Santana making out in her trophy closet."

"Wouldn't know, but she looked like she took a dump in her pants and had to find a bathroom ASAP! Hi, I'm Sara. You must be Quinn."

She has manners to match her accent. Ok, no. I'm not my mother and I'm in no place to judge.

"Call me Q. It's nice to finally meet the first person, other than family, that can actually live with Rachel."

"Nah, it's really nothing. I grew up in a house with three younger brothers and loud-mouthed Italian parents, not to mention all my Puerto Rican friends. I could pretty much live in a war zone, so living with Berry here is a walk in the park. Besides, what's so wrong with her? She ain't some kind of killer or something, right?"

I can see why she likes her.

"There's nothing wrong with her that I can think of and I'm pretty sure she couldn't harm a fly. Although a spider, maybe."

"That is because spiders are evil creatures that should not be allowed to live. Nor should anything else with that many legs and eyes for that matter," Rachel said defensively.

"Don't let the people at PETA hear you say that," I teased.

"Well Miss Ivy League, why don't you put your stuff in our room so we can go grab a bite? You can take my bed, I don't really mind. And don't worry, I just washed the sheets," said Sara with a wink.

A bed in the same room as Rachel? I – I couldn't control – I can't accept that.

"Oh no, Sara, you don't have to do that. I can take the couch no problem. It's really not a big deal."

"Look, taking a four hour nap on that couch is no big deal, but sleeping there for three nights, that's torture. Don't even worry about it. Didn't Berry tell you that I'm going home? Besides, if you don't sleep there, no one will and that's just stupid. So you'll sleep on my bed and like it or else you'll offend me. Ok? End of story."

Four hours does not a nap make. Buuut, alright then.

"Then it is settled! How wonderful. The bedroom is right around the corner, Quinn. I hope you both are in the mood for Thai food! Tofu Pad Thai anyone?"

**Sara**: I like her. She's a little wound up, if you know what I mean, but she's a sweet girl and has manners like I've never seen before. Berry told me she had a thing for her friend and that she was pretty, but she didn't say that this girl was a straight up knockout! She's the kind of girl that can make you question things, ya know, but she's too much of a goody two shoes to be my type… if I was gonna be _questioning_ things, that is.

I'm sure they're going to have a good time this weekend. You know Berry, always prepared with a backup plan. Her backup plans have backup plans. She kept saying, "This is the week," over and over to herself like some kind of mantra. I think she's planning on coming clean, but from the way those two look at each other, or the way Q gave Berry all of her mushrooms because "they're your favorite," I don't know if anything really needs to be said at all.

Women. That's why I don't do them. It's got nothing to do with whether or not I can have sex with them but more that I don't think I can stand their crazy. Our crazy. Whatever, you know what I mean. Women can be fickle. Now men, men are easy and I like easy. Easy peezy lemon squeezy! Just don't tell my boyfriend that; he can really be such a girl sometimes.

**Quinn**: As I was putting my stuff down in the bedroom, I noticed Rachel's ridiculously full and color-coded desk calendar. For today, it says "Begin QNYEEWS!" Next to it on a pink noted pad are the words "Quinnificent," "Quinderful," "Quawesome," and "Quinbulous" scratched out before she underlined the word "Quinntastic" three times.

Could this girl be any more adorable?

**Rachel**: I could not be any more excited to have Quinn here, with me, in my apartment, after so long. Dinner was amazing, of course. I love the Pad Thai at Thaied Up. I discovered that little gem one day when my Costumes class took a field trip to a NYADA elderly patron's home in Gramercy Park. I decided to walk there and discover a new part of the city and happened to come across this quaint little restaurant with the handsomely inviting dark carved teak doors on the way. I thought the name was clever and erotic – e_x_otic! I meant _exotic_!

Quinn thoroughly enjoyed her Pad Kee Mao with tofu and Sara ventured out and tried a spread of sushi that included yellow tail and eel… I think. I must admit I do not speak Japanese nor am I a sushi connoisseur. But now it is Faberry time!

"Ok, so here are your options for tonight. I have all of tomorrow planned, but I thought you might be a little tired today, considering you had a final this morning, so I will let you choose between the following activities: first, we can–"

"How gracious of you to allow me to exercise my free will tonight, Rach."

"Quinn, I will choose to ignore your sarcasm tonight as it is a typical side effect of tiredness and fatigue. As I was saying, we can, A, enjoy each other's company over a bottle of wine, care of Sara and her fake ID; or B, we can–"

"Wait, Sara bought us a bottle of wine? You condoned her use of a fake ID? And even if I did drink wine, you don't know what kind I prefer."

"Have you always been such a constant interrupter? It must be the fatigue. While I ordinarily do not condone minors undermining the law, Sara has been using her ID since she was 15 and considering her life experience, she has the maturity of a 21 year old. Secondly, we are in college, Quinn, and partaking in alcohol consumption is something that is not only expected, but required of us. There have been and will continue to be several events that require my attendance where my sole purpose will be to schmooze potential donors, directors, producers, writers, and co-stars in order to boost my career. If I want to play the game, then I need to start somewhere, so what better place to start than where I left off this summer, with my best friend?"

"Oh. Well, that was a very… thought out answer," Quinn stumbled.

"Yes, well I tend to spend a lot of time consumed in my own thoughts. Also, because I was unsure of your wine preference, I had Sara buy both a white wine, Sauvignon Blanc – a general crowd pleaser that is currently chilling in the fridge – and a nice Shiraz, because I thought that a Cabernet Sauvignon might be too dry for our novice palates."

I think of everything you know. At least, I try to. This weekend with Quinn has to be special and if the completely stupefied look on her face tells me anything, I think I have pulled off my most brilliant plan yet. She is giving me that eyebrow of hers and I cannot help but wonder if it means that she is surprised and beyond belief at my genius plan or something else. I wish I could read this mysterious women before me as easily as she seems to be able to read me.

She seems adorably lost in her own thoughts as she thumbs her index fingers with closed fists and licks her lips. It is probably best I snap her out of her reverie before I lose my gumption.

"_OR_," I say certainly too loudly for our conversation, "plan B: we can go to this cute little coffee shop that I know you will simply love to pieces and talk or take a board game and soak up the scenery and each other's company."

I love her smile. When she smiles genuinely it fills me with a warmth akin to when you have been standing in a shadow on a brisk fall day and then step into the sunshine. Do you know the feeling? It feels as if the sun is wrapping you in the kindest hug and kisses your skin to remind you that there is warmth in the universe even on the coldest of days.

"Completely legal, of course," I add to tease her.

She stands there regarding me and then saunters over to the couch as if she has been here before. I never know what she is thinking and she must sense my discomfort because she smiles _that _smile and pats the cushion next to her.

As if I even have a choice. Even with a mere few inches separating us, I can feel her warmth and notice my body temperature rising as she crosses her legs daintily with ease. Bless the inventor of black lace leggings.

"Well," she drawls out. I think she likes having this visible effect on me. Quinn Fabray and control will always be synonymous. "Why don't we do both?"

"Both? How do you mean?"

"Well, we can drink some chai as I kick your ass at Scrabble, yet again, and then we can come home for a nightcap and catch up over a glass of wine. Does that sound good?"

_Home._

"Perfect. That sounds perfect."


	4. Chapter 4: The Challenge

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for all of the favs and alerts! It really makes my day. Enjoy, chapter 4!**

* * *

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 4: The Challenge

**Quinn**: You can always count on Rachel to give it the good old college try at Scrabble, and while she may have the largest working vocabulary of anyone I've ever met, she lacks strategy. So when she's laying down words like "acajou," which is apparently real and means cashew tree, I'm thinking three moves ahead and grabbing three times as many points by laying down a word off of a letter and adjacent to another word. It's kind of hard to do and you have to hope you have some good vowels to work off of, but you can increase your score from 23 points, to 60. She hates when I do that, and I love it.

We drew an audience more than once at The Lemon Bar when Rachel huffed and insisted on challenging a word.

"Quinn, I think I know a thing or two about words and I can assure you that 'xu' is not a legal Scrabble word. I propose a challenge. I am going to consult my Scrabble App and prove it to you."

I didn't want to spoil the moment so I didn't say a word and let her figure it out for herself, which as it was, I was right.

"Ok, while 'xu' is apparently a real word, I have never heard 'umiaq' in my life. What does it mean?"

"I don't know Rach, I just know that it's a word."

"How can you know that it's a word if you don't know what it means? Of course it's not a word! Quinn Fabray you are a sly one, but I will not let you get this one past me. I propose a second challenge!"

Her face was priceless.

"I believe that's 78 points for me, counting the triple and double letter scores for 'umiaq,' a kind of Eskimo boat. I may not study the dictionary, but I have read Scrabble guides for two-letter words and words with a 'q' but no 'u.' Did you add my points?"

Of course I noticed the somewhat attractive barista, or is it baristo if you're a guy? Either way, _he_ gave Rachel a vegan lemon bar to go with her chai tea on the house because "the lemon brings out the natural flavors in the chai" or some bullshit like that. Rachel of course accepted it with kindness and split it with me, but she failed to notice that he wrote his number on the napkin he placed under the plate. Too bad for him I was forced to use it to clean the dirty table I chose for us to sit at. Lord knows I didn't want her Scrabble board to get dirty and it was honestly the only napkin we had. _Maybe_ instead of giving away free lemon squares he could do his _job_ and clean the damn tables!

"So what does Ms. Berry do now that she's in the Big City in her spare time? What wonders have you been able to explore? What people have you met?"

"Well, I do not have a plethora of spare time, what with all of my studies, lessons, and exercise regimen. However, I have gone to a few parties with Sara, both for NYADA and out to some bars with her non-school friends. NYADA parties remind me of Glee parties, except with better alcohol and more drama."

"More drama? How could they have more drama? I think it'll be pretty hard to beat befriending the ex-head cheerleader that made your life hell for years while you dated her ex-boyfriend and baby-daddy, despite the fact that she gave up said baby to your biological mother. Do you all have that kind of drama?"

"Well, no. No we do not. What I meant was that everything, every event, causes drama. We might as well have our own reality show."

"Ahh, I see. That'll be 52 points for 'qoph' please."

Rachel looked at me with narrowed eyes and her mouth pursed for a challenge.

"Do you know what 'qoph' even means, Quinn?"

"Of course I do. It's the 19th letter of the Hebrew alphabet. My Bible professor is a language nut, so I've learned a few interesting facts along the way."

"I – I'm impressed, Quinn. You _must_ tell me all about this Bible class. It sounds fascinating. I hope Judaism does not seem so foreign to you now. Although I must admit, I have been remiss in my weekly Temple attendance since I left Lima."

"Well, if you wanted to go check out a synagogue around the area, I wouldn't mind going with you on Saturday morning… that is if you haven't already booked us for some sight-seeing."

Maybe my invitation was too personal because Rachel looks like she might start hyperventilating.

"Quinn," she said softly as she placed her open hand over her chest while the other dabbed impending tears at the corners of her bright eyes, "That it such a lovely gesture. No one has ever offered to accompany me to Temple, not even Puck. I – I – thank you. I am so touched. Yes, I would love to go to Temple with you. I had a relaxing breakfast planned for Saturday morning, but we can pick up something quick afterward to keep our schedule."

"Great, it should be fun. You're my friend, Rach, and as such, I want to try to understand you and be a part of your life in multiple ways. Like, I'm sure you didn't know that Santana goes to her aunt's house every Sunday for lunch and takes Brittany with her. Family is super important to San, so their family dinners are a must. I think it's admirable and a sign of her and Britt's commitment to be a part of the Lopez family as they are. Besides, I haven't gone to church since this past Christmas and that's mainly because I love hearing the choir sing Christmas Carols. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about my church these days to be honest with you. This class has opened my eyes to my father's skewed self-righteous preaching and the closed views of my old church. I've also met a lot of good people, some even religious at the LGBTQ group on campus that allowed me to witness just how wrong my father was and still is."

I've never opened up this much to Rachel before. I can see that she's trying to soak in and process everything I've just said. She looks as if she doesn't know which part to comment on. I can see her eyes thinking and she seems to have settled on something and smiles.

"I love Christmas Carols as well."

**Rachel**: I know what heaven feels like and it feels like Quinn Fabray's lips. After the coffee shop where I so graciously allowed my guest to win, we came back to my apartment. Quinn said she could go for a cold beverage, which I took to understand to be the Sauv Blanc. Two glasses of wine each later and filling each other in with the trivialities of our everyday lives, and I was slightly inebriated. Tipsy, but not drunk. A lady must keep her wits about her.

"I lost all of my tolerance, Rach! I have a confession. I haven't had any alcohol since before we left Lima. I've actually only been to one real college party so far and I nursed a coke all night. But shhhh. Don't tell Santana. I guess I'm what the youngsters would call a cheap date."

Quinn was giggling to herself. Quinn Fabray was definitely drunk, on my couch, in a dress. Just the two of us. Anything could have happen and we could just blame it on the alcohol…

"You would never be a cheap date to me, Quinn, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing to abstain from alcohol, but can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Quinn said while flicking her index finger in the air as if to say "Gotcha!"

"You know what I meant, Quinn."

"I know I know. I'm just bustin' your chops. Go ahead. Shoot, ol' sport!"

"If you have intentionally abstained from alcohol for the past three months, why are you drinking with me tonight?"

Quinn's smile changed from comical to appreciative. "Easy – because I trust you."

I could not help but smile at her words. In another lifetime, those effortless words were all I ever dreamt of hearing. Quinn trusts me, but with what and to what extent is unclear.

I want to tell her everything, but I know that if I put myself out there: 1) I may make a complete fool of myself; 2) She will become angry with me and leave and no longer be my friend; 3) All of the above; or worse 4) She will pretend it never happened and cement our suspension in a world of uncertainties. No, I cannot do that to myself. If there is one thing I learned from dating Finn, it is that sincere gestures can come off as creepy. I do not want Quinn to think I may be lurking beneath her bed, too. Instead, I will toe the line of friendly and grateful.

"You do not know how happy it makes me to hear you say that, Quinn. It means a lot to me. And please know that the feeling is mutual. I trust you... with everything."

She looks at me contemplatively as if she were going to ask me a question, but instead she tisks out loud as turns her head to the side with a knowing smile.

"You know what else I trust," Quinn continues while blatantly ignoring my statement, "I trust that this wine has made my lips numb. I can't feel them," she says while pressing her lips with her fingers in demonstration. "Nothing. Look, you give it a go."

She is telling me to touch her mouth. _Commanding_ that I do so. She has not left, so that must be a good sign. I want nothing more than to touch her mouth right now. Who am I to turn a gift horse in the mouth, right? I could not have dreamt this scenario up in my head even if I tried. If Quinn HBIC Fabray is telling you to do something, you do it.

The word "Ok" escaped my mouth. As I reached out to touch her succulent lips, her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. Whether it was because of the alcohol or because, perhaps, she wanted to be touched as much as I wanted to touch her, I do not know. I could feel her light cool breath ghost my fingertips before making contact with her soft warm plump lips. I daren't touch her beyond my welcome, but my fingers made contact for the better part of a minute, I think. I could feel the moisture from the wine, but most importantly I could feel her lips quiver beneath my touch deliciously. It was heaven on earth in that simplest of touches. For the smallest of moments, we were connected and it electrified my senses.

I pulled my hand away and let out a shaky breath which had been held hostage in my chest. Touching Quinn Fabray will do that to you. Her eyes remained closed and as if I was possessed, I pressed my fingers to my lips as if they could somehow transfer a kiss. If only to taste her. And of course, she opened her eyes as my fingers left my lips.

"Taste good?" She asked with a quirked brow.

I nodded my head dumbly. The look in her eyes changed from satiated to that predatory stare she used to make when she was armed with a slushy. I could not make heads or tails of her gaze and it appeared as if she could not either.

"I think I've had enough excitement for tonight. I'm going to take a shower and get ready for bed. Is that ok with you, Rach?"

"O-of course. You are my guest and are more than welcome to use the facilities. I left a towel for you on Sara's bed. Feel free to use an extra toothbrush from under the sink or my shampoos if you forgot to bring yours. My things are at your disposal."

"Are you going to shower, too?"

_With you? _

"Um, I-I'll take a shower in the morning. I took one not too long before you arrived. I just need to brush my teeth."

"Ok. I'll leave the door unlocked so you can step in. No sense in making you wait for me to come out."

_I could _not_ have put it better myself._

"Great. I will knock three times like this, tap - tap - tap, and if you say 'toodle-oo,' I will know you are completely in the shower."

"Or you can just come in when you can hear the water running. Seriously, Rach, did you ever take P.E.? I'm sure I don't have anything you've never seen before."

_On the contrary._

"You would think."

**Quinn**: I _love_ Rachel's New York. A little known fact about Ms. Berry, aside from musicals, her favorite movies are anything with a certain spunky little blonde. Yes, you guessed it, Meg Ryan. So as you can imagine, after grabbing some coffee outside of Tiffany's, taking the first ferry out to the Statue of Liberty, and a fun bike ride through Central Park, we found ourselves at the famous Katz's Delicatessen from the seminal class (Rachel's words not mine) _When Harry Met Sally_.

I dared her to reenact the infamous fake orgasm scene for $50, but she refused. She said something along the lines of, "Quinn, while I typically embrace any opportunity to display my acting abilities and I do consider myself a method actor, I have decided that my first sexual scene will be on stage and not for the gratification of the general public without remuneration."

I couldn't help but tease her.

"What about 'Push It' during Sophomore year? Well if you're a method actor, and you and Finn sealed the deal-"

"Language, Quinn!"

"Excuse me – had _sex_, Rachel, then you should have no problem with this challenge."

"I – he – I never – I mean he was never able to-"

"Stop! Stop! Stop! TMI, Rach. Seriously. Sorry Finn couldn't keep it up, but I'd rather strip naked in here right now than hear about your old sex life with Finn."

Her cheeks burned red as she ducked her head down and slouched down the booth. "I never sai- I'm sorry."

"Wow. I don't even know – I suppose I'm not gonna finish this sandwich anymore."

That was a stupid dare on my part.

Watching the Book of Mormon was awesome. I nearly peed my pants a few times it was so funny, but the best part was watching Rach. Her eyes were transfixed on the sage the moment the curtain opened. She was easily in her element and the pure joy and desire to get up on that stage was clear as day. I _know_ in my heart she'll make it someday, I can only wish that there was something I could do to make her smile like that always.

Call it guilt or the feeling of a debt owed for her making her so miserable in high school. Or maybe I can call a spade a spade and be honest with myself. I want to see Rachel Berry happy because I care about her. If Rachel's happy, I'm happy. That's really why I decided to go to her wedding after all, but we all know how fate played its hand. It was as if fate was telling me, make her happy, but always look out for her best interest. Had I stuck to my guns, yes Rachel wouldn't have been happy in that exact moment, but she would have thanked me in the end like she has on countless occasions and I could have avoided that accident.

But that's not how it played out. _C'est la vie_.

Temple on Saturday was so different from my typical sit down, shut up, and fake smile as you walk out kind of church that I'm used to. It was refreshing. I was especially surprised to see some people kiss the Torah when they took it out and to see that the Rabbi was a woman! I was afraid I was going to get lost, but it turns out that it's pretty easy to get lost even if you're Jewish. Rachel told me that this synagogue did things very differently from her old one back in Lima. I can imagine. Having only one for the entire city couldn't have been easy for those who are more Orthodox versus those that are more Reform. Rachel had a good time and said she felt renewed and relieved that she could tell her dads that she finally found a temple.

**Rachel**: She's leaving soon. I haven't said anything yet. I'm sitting across from her in a coffee shop. Her bags are right behind her. She's saying something that I can only imagine is wonderfully educated or witty. I'm nervous. I'm biting my nails. Should I say something before it's too late. Can't she see I'm conflicted? Does she notice me? Does she know she can unhinge me?

**Quinn**: Something is wrong with Rachel. Something is very wrong. She's suddenly quiet and extra fidgety. I'm trying to tell her that she should come visit me in Yale over the winter break and all of the neat things I would love for us to do, but she's just sitting there nodding her head every once in a while. Shouldn't she be more excited?

Maybe I was reading everything wrong.

**Rachel**: Ok, here it goes. Oh how I wish I had some liquid courage in my system.

"Quinn, I would love to visit you in New Haven. It would truly be my honor and privilege. Thank you so much for your invitation. Once finals are over, we should schedule a time to meet."

She looks relieved for some reason. I will take that as a good sign.

"I would love that, too, Rach," she says as she grasps my hand over the table with a friendly squeeze. Her eyes are locked onto mine until she lets go and glances at her watch.

"Look, I know you have to leave soon. Believe me, it has been weighing on my mind, but not as much as other matters have been. Quinn, I had an amazing time this weekend and part of me selfishly wishes that you went to NYU or Columbia."

"I had a blast, too, Rach."

There she goes making me smile with a few simple words. "I know your bus leaves in 10, but I have to say something first, and I only ask that you do not judge me or think ill of me or hate me after I say it. Can you promise me that?"

"R-rach of course. I promise whatever you say won't make me hate you."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

Our pinks intertwine and I know we have officially sealed our promise. Phew, now if only I could just tell her.

"I don't know how else to say this, Quinn. Ever since- I just wanted to say that- You and I- Ugh! Ok."

_Breathe._

"I like you. I like you, Quinn. There. I said it."

I smile in relief but never leave her eyes sight. How is she going to take this?

"You like me? Like, like me like me?"

"Yes, Quinn. I have romantic feelings towards you. At first I thought I just wanted to _be_ you, but then I realized that I'd rather _have_… well… you understand, don't you? This summer confirmed my suspicions about myself. You're an amazing person, Quinn Fabray, not to mention the most beautiful one I have ever met. I am _so_ lucky to be able to call you my friend and I know that I am jeopardizing that by being honest with you right now, but this has been plaguing me ever since I came to the realization and it is a burden I can no longer bear. I had to tell you, and at the minimum, I hope to remain friends. I do not expect you to return these feelings, and I will be ok if you don't, but I just- I just thought you should know."

I am having a mini-heart attack, if such a thing exists. Seventy-five hours have passed by and I know she is cutting it close with her bus.

Quinn stands up and grabs a hold of her luggage. _Fuck, she's leaving me. No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen._

But then she smiles, bends down, cups my cheek, and whispers in my ear, "Thank you Rachel Berry."

I hold her hand to my face. I can't let her go this quickly. "Wait. That's it? What does that mean?"

I know I'm stretching it and she may be being the nicest friend ever, but then she says something with a little extra allure in her tone that will send me reeling for the rest of time.

"Perhaps."

And with one final turn, she is gone.


	5. Chapter 5: I'll Be Waiting

**A/N: Happy Faberry Week! Thank you all for reading/reviewing/alerting! And another shout-out to my beta, FeelingGrey. Enjoy!**

* * *

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 5: I'll Be Waiting

**Rachel**: The end of the semester is quickly approaching. Thanksgiving is next week and then finals are the following, but fear not, Rachel Berry has been furthering her budding social life.

I am about to accompany Sara to an off-beat art function at the behest of a friend of a friend. I must admit I do not understand the art display – or maybe painting is a better word – before me, but from the looks of it, not many people do. What do you think they call this? Hyper Avant Garde? One particular painting has me completely disturbingly perplexed. Perhaps because the small placard next to "Babbling Brook," interesting name considering the... subject matter? Perhaps if I turn my head sideways I might understand it better.

"You know, you could turn your head all the way over and you still wouldn't be able to make any sense of that."

I turn around to the whispered voice behind me to find a chic blonde. I do not recognize this girl and look around to make certain she was addressing me.

"I beg your pardon?" I ask.

The blonde steps closer as her bright blue eyes narrow as if she were sharing a national secret, blocking her mouth from view with one hand.

"I just interviewed the artist. She told me that the yellowish stains are actually old spit from a spittoon she borrowed from a friend who plays the trumpet. She said, 'We are all dribbling idiots. Most people don't know it.' I'm not quite sure what she really means by that. I personally think that it doesn't matter what she really made it out of because her yellow and black scribbles are just that."

"So that little sign that says 'Acrylics & Spit' is _real_?" Tell me you do not find that mildly disgusting.

"Maybe, but I can't say for certain. Does it smell odd to you? Using old spit would definitely make any artist in this crowd stand out for the night."

I never thought of it that way. To think that some artists would shame their craft and lie all in the name of notoriety.

"You may be onto something there, but I will not be the brave soul to play CSI and determine the origin of the yellowish streaks."

"Everything is not always as it seems. I'm Christine. Christine Eliza Bellefleur. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance miss... ?"

"Berry. Rachel Berry. Likewise, Christine. Christine… like from Phantom?"

She let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, one in the same. I'm just glad you didn't say the Stephen King novel. That one got old, quick. At least Christine Daaé was a person and not a killer car."

"I _adore_ Phantom. I am a musical theater student at NYADA, so Broadway is my life. Your middle name reminds me of the great Liza Minnelli or Eliza Doolittle from Pygmalion, aka My Fair Lady."

"Yes I get that one quite a bit as well, but I take it as a compliment and wow, Pygmalion. Most people say My Fair Lady but they don't usually know that it was a play first. You really know your stuff. "

"Well, my full name is Rachel Barbra Berry. I was named after Barbra Streisand. She is the epitome of the young ingénue I aspire to be. I told you, musical theater is my forte."

"Hey, there you are Berry. Thought I lost you. I see you've made a new friend," Sara said as she squeezed her way through a small crowd of people.

"Sara, yes I have! Sara this is Christine. Christine, Sara, my roommate."

"Hello Sara. We've met before at the last art function."

"I remember. You wrote a piece on Rocko's piece in the school paper. He was so stoked. It's nice to see you again."

"You two know each other?" I asked out of curiosity.

"More like a familiar face in the crowd," Christine made clear.

"Yeah. Well take it easy on this weird spit one. You two are the only brave souls to stand near it, I hope you've noticed. Now that I know you haven't wondered off, I'm gonna grab another free beer and some cheese. Give me the heads up when you're ready to go Rach so I can down one more. Have fun kids."

I waved Sara off and couldn't help but laugh at her blatant open-bar abuse and her stage wink. I would never let her wonder around the city drunk and sloppy. That is what roommates are for, right? Now where was I?

"So does that mean you are a writer?" I continue.

"Aspiring journalist. Right now I write for NYU's paper and intern at The New York Times. I regret telling the NYU editor that my parents own a few expensive paintings because he assumes that I know something about art. Now I have sporadic assignments to cover art exhibitions by NYU students and alum. The job has its perks, though. I get to meet interesting people all the time, and if I'm lucky, _beautiful_ ones, too."

Oh my goodness. Is this girl flirting with me? She carries herself with a poise that says she comes from money and dresses as if she hopes to be captured by Bill Cunningham or The Sartorialist. Not to mention her stylish bob and piercing blue eyes. What am I wearing? Let's see, I thought I looked cute when I left the apartment donning my newest faux-leather brown riding boots. My hair is lightly curled and offset nicely under my oversized beanie. No, she cannot be flirting with me. Girls like her do not go after girls like me… I think.

"Is that what you want to do? Art critiques, I mean." _Back to the topic at hand, Berry._

"No. Right now I'm practically an errand girl at the Times, but one has to work their way up on the ladder and pay their dues. My passions lie in politics. Politics are the bane of my existence and my life. It's a double edged sword that I love to straddle. Rachel Maddow is my personal hero."

"Ahh, that is because she is a Rachel. It is nearly impossible not to love us all."

_I just flirted back. Stop flirting back! You are working on creating a relationship with an amazingly beautiful blonde in New Haven. Don't mess this up now, Rachel Barbra Berry!_

"Is that so," she asks as she suggestively raises her eyebrow. "But I feel as if I must be honest with you. I _was_ named after Christine Daaé, but my middle name is Hebrew meaning 'God is my vow.' Dad told Mom that one Broadway name was enough."

"That's uncannily similar to my namesake. My fathers named me Rachel after the Hebrew meaning-"

"Ewe," she finishes for me.

"Exactly, or one with purity. She was also the favorite of Jacob's wives, which is ironic seeing as this obnoxious boy in my high school named Jacob was obsessed with me. I even gave him a pair of my panties once, but that is neither here nor there. My fathers agreed that a part of my name had to keep with tradition."

"Panties? I'll have to hear about that story some other time. In order to live up to your namesake, which I'm sure you do, I'm going to assume that you did so for an admirable reason. You said tradition. Is it safe to assume you're Jewish?"

"Yes in part and no in part."

"What are you a lawyer?"

"Come again?"

"Sorry, that's a typical response from lawyers, judges, and politicians. Disregard me. Please continue."

"I am Jewish, but I also observe certain Christian practices. My daddy is a sucker for Christmas trees and carols."

"That's cute. I'm Jewish as well. Reform, of course. What Temple do you attend? Oh, wait. Rachel, I think I see your roommate giving you the universal 'rescue me' signal. I'm sorry for talking your ear off all night and stealing you away from her. This may be a bit forward of me, but I like taking chances. I know that this time of the semester can be kind of rough with finals inching toward us, but I've really enjoyed our chat. I'm going to give you my number and let you decide to do whatever it is you'd like to do with it, although I'm hoping that I'll hear back from you in the near future. All I ask is that you don't pass it out at parties to guys you want to get off your back. Deal?"

"Sara is only being dramatic. She is a big girl and can easily handle herself, but I suppose we really should be going. I have enjoyed our conversation as well and I am always looking to make new friends. I would be amenable to grabbing coffee sometime when we are both free."

There, I said friends. You are my witness. You know how difficult it was for me to make friends in high school. This is my chance to start anew. There is nothing wrong with making new friends. In fact, Quinn has encouraged it.

"It's a date. Thank you Rachel Berry. Have a goodnight."

A date? A _friend_ date, that's what she meant. Please don't read into it.

**Quinn**: Prama has been in official freak-out mode since she got her grade back from her Bio midterm. While I was pleasantly satisfied with my 93 in Psych, Prama thought the world was almost over after her 92. Apparently the so-called "Asian F" also extends to the Indian Subcontinent. I thought she was being a little over dramatic considering that the test was very difficult, her professor doesn't curve, and that he told her that if he _did_ curve, her grade would have set it because she got the highest grade in the class.

Who knows. All I know is that when it comes to study time, I leave her alone. Now food breaks, on the other hand, are a different story. Deep in the wild on the 3rd full moon of the rainy season, only then by the bright crisp moonlight do we have the opportunity to witness the majestic dark mane and easy stride of Prama as she takes a study break to join us in the Buttery for a late night snack.

Seriously, though. I understand the pressure to make good grades, and although finals are in two weeks, she's been studying for them for the past four! I was lucky enough to catch her for a quick grilled cheese for a while yesterday. We talked a bit about this and that. She reminds me of Brittany in the way that I feel safe enough to tell her stuff. I've missed having a friend like that. Don't get me wrong, I talk to Rach almost everyday, but there are certain topics that I don't feel completely comfortable broaching with her quite yet.

Oh, did I mention that Hazel found herself a boy toy here? They're not dating, but they're not _not_. You know? I suppose if this were Facebook, it would say "It's complicated with Guy." I've learned that Guy is the French equivalent of Bill because it's a shortened form of Guillaume, which is the French version of William. Well, it'd be "complicated" for you too if a certain Guy was also your French TA. Avril definitely said it best back in the day: "_Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?" _Oh the webs we weave.

**Rachel**: I have a beautifully romantic idea, but it could also splat in my face like it did in the movie from which it has derived. I am still thinking about it, though. I suppose I should sleep on it longer. No sense in rushing. As they say, "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink." Why must the horse always be male? Everyone knows women are harder to predict than men, so that phrase seems slightly misguided.

**Prama**: I am a mess when it comes to this test. How would you feel if you realized that the only problems you missed were because you mistook your own freaking notes? Whatever, I'm not bitter. Stupid nucleotides. But besides me, Quinn's kind of a ball of drama, too!

I'm sure she's told you I'm in study mode, so in order not to frazzle myself with that, I'm going to drop it and leave my studies at that. I'm trying to block out the citric acid cycle at the moment.

… there. Blocked.

Where was I? Quinn, yes – or should I really be talking about Rachel? It's nearly impossible to talk about one without the other and I've never even met the girl in person. Quinn and I were eating a grilled cheese one night at the Buttery and Quinn was struck with a case of Rachel word vomit. She couldn't help herself. I knew that her trip to New York altered their relationship, but I had never realized to what extent. Rachel told her that she liked her and Quinn obviously likes Rachel back and has told me so. Anytime she gets off the phone with Rachel she can't help but wax poetic about a future fairytale world where they both can live happily ever after. And don't get me wrong. I want Quinn to be happy, but I'm not sure she knows _how_ to be happy. As soon as she counts the ways that Rachel is so perfect for her, or in general, she lists just as many reasons why they shouldn't be together, which usually all have to deal with her own strangely perceived shortcomings. The excuses range from serious to downright silly.

"I hurt her too much in the past."

"I would only disappoint her."

"She would be happier with someone else."

"She's too beautiful for someone like me. I'm ugly inside."

"What if she changes her mind and finds a boy?"

"She wouldn't want me if I got fat."

"We could never eat a slushy together ever again."

Excuse after excuse after excuse, but the one excuse she is too afraid to voice is the real reason she hasn't gone for it yet.

_She could break my heart._

**Sunny**: Quinn and Rachel? Well I haven't met Rachel yet, but from the way she affects Quinn, I think they'd be great together. She's a definite cutie and Quinn would look great on her arm. I _do_ know that that girl's got some pipes from the few recordings from their Glee club Quinn's played for me. Talent and knowledge are totally a turn on. I see why Quinn likes her.

**Quinn**: It's time for Rachel's and my bi-weekly Skype date…chat… date. Ever since she told me she liked me, it's been a game changer. I can't deny that I have feelings for her and that I have for some time now, but I'm not sure I can act on them in good conscience. It's so complicated and I wish I could get over some of my own stuff, but it's not easy. Rome wasn't built in a day. Besides, I like what we have now. Why can't we just keep things like this. Talking, flirting, laughing, smiling, and if we were together in person, hugs.

Fun stuff. Happy stuff. Safe stuff.

I don't want this to end badly and if I know me… I could never stop being her friend.

Oh! She just logged on! Date time!

**Rachel**: I'm going for it. There's no time like the present.

"Salutations, Quinn! You look lovely this evening."

"You're not so bad yourself, Rach."

She always knows how to make me blush. It is impossible to resist the Fabray charm.

"How have your studies been fairing?"

"I'm working slow and steady. So far so good. Cramming has never really been my style."

"I am certain you will rock your exams."

"Rock? Haha. I'm going to try. How have rehearsals been going for _The Golden Grove_?"

"Some days we run like a fine oiled machine and other days someone has thrown in a wrench. I suppose that will be alright considering we have nearly 3 months until opening night, which you will be in attendance of in the first row just as promised."

"I wouldn't dream of missing you-erh, youuuur first performance. I wouldn't dream of missing your first performance."

She is _so_ adorable when she makes slips like that and blushes. I would not dream of missing her either. At least I know I am not alone in these feelings.

"Perfect."

Okay. Here it goes.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, Rachel?"

I love the way she smiles and quirks up her eyebrow. It is inviting and sensual all at once.

"I know we agreed for this video communication to be our last until finals in order for us to concentrate on our respective studies and be as successful as possible in our academic endeavors, aside from a good morning and goodnight text message."

"Uh huh."

"So, before I lost the opportunity, I would like to ask you something."

"Ask me what?"

"Well, as you know, we are going to be taking the train home together from New York for the holiday season."

"Yes and I told you we could spend the evening together before our train leaves at 10."

"Right. Well, you also know that the last time you were here in New York I told you that I like you. I like you a lot, Quinn. That has not changed and if anything has only grown stronger over time."

Silence, but she's smiling beautifully so that must be a good sign to continue.

"And I know that I told you that I did not expect you to return my feelings, but you have not denied that you have feelings for me either. You see the thing is…"

Breathe, Rach. Wipe your palms and say what you came here to say.

"I'm sorry. You make me nervous and I'm not accustomed to stage fright. Ok. Quinn, I am so glad you didn't go running for the hills after I gave you my confessions, but at the same time, you have to understand that this uncertainty of not knowing how you truly feel is terrifying, worrisome, and slightly painful with a generous side of self-doubt."

Her face has fallen.

"Rach, I can empathize. Believe me I can," she says with earnest.

Charge through, Berry. Don't think about who it was that she has pined over.

"Which is why I am going to make you a proposition."

"A proposition?"

"Yes. I want to know if you are interested in pursuing a relationship with me. Now please don't get me wrong, I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend right now."

Oh God she looks like she's just seen a ghost.

"What I meant was, and please don't look at me like that. I can literally see the terror in your eyes. What I mean is, I would like some kind of sign from you that you like me, too."

"Rach, I don't-"

"Not yet! Please, just listen. On the day that you come to New York after finals, I will be waiting for you at the Lemon Bar. I will be sitting at a table with a red rose, so you are able to spot me easily. If you have feelings for me and/or would like to pursue understanding these feelings in some fashion, then simply show up and accompany for a cup of coffee. If you come, then I will know that I mean something to you more than a friend. If you do not, then at least I will have the winter break to heal. Do you understand?"

I wish she could see how beautiful she is to me. Life is truly cruel as it forces me to watch her mull over my proposition as she licks her lips. If I were there, I can imagine she smells of lavender, lemons, and jasmine. A clean crisp scent.

"Yes," her mellifluous voice eventually says.

Then, I have done my part.

"Good. I am going to use our communications hiatus as a time of reflection and study. I sincerely hope you do the same. Also, I know that you like to listen to music as you study. I just emailed you a song that I have been playing on loop. Not only is the vocalists voice tastefully airy and sweet, but the melancholic jazz harmonies are an embodiment of the lyrics. I hope you enjoy it."

"I'll definitely give it a listen, Rach. Good luck on your finals."

"Likewise, Quinn. Have a good night."

"You, too."

**Quinn**: Let's get over the fact that Rachel's attempting to pull off a scene from _You've Got Mail_.

What the hell am I supposed to do?


	6. Chapter 6: Rise and Grind

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 6: Rise and Grind

**Quinn**: Studying has been a mediocre distraction from Rachel's "proposition" - more like an ultimatum if you ask me. Her words constantly linger in the back of my mind and I don't know what to do. My heart screams yes while my head is pleading the 5th. My conscience says "this is what we've always wanted" while Lucy says that I'll only let her down. And the hardest pill to swallow is that I think Lucy may be right.

At the least I know she's done with her finals. Our good morning texts let me know as much. I'm glad she's made a new friend, too. Just before we took our hiatus she told me about meeting someone at an art gallery. Christine was her name. I could never forget how she brought it up. She said she met someone who reminded her of me because she was _one_ of the most beautiful girls she's ever met. Me, easily being _the_ most beautiful girl still.

Why must she say such sweet things and make my life that much harder?

If I show up, well, I'm not exactly sure how one goes about being in a relationship with a woman, much less Rachel Berry. If I don't show, she'll be hurt and let down. She'll be so disappointed in me and I'll be so embarrassed. I doubt I could face her again. Losing her friendship is the last thing I want but it seems to be inevitable.

HBIC Quinn would selfishly weigh the benefits for me against any cons and make a simple decision. Status over love any day. But I'm not that girl anymore and she never knew what it was really like to feel.

If only someone would tell me what to do.

**Rachel**: Three more days until Quinn comes to New York and we go home! I'm so nervous I can hardly stand it. The butterflies in my stomach are threatening to break free all over my bedroom floor, but I am not certain if this feeling is a good sign. I will have you know that I possess certain clairvoyant powers and I have been sensing some negative energies as of late. Perhaps those feelings are my own insecurities playing against me, which is why now is an opportune time to preoccupy myself by making a new friend.

I'm en route to the coffee shop Christine and I agreed upon to chat and become better acquainted. I hope that night at the art gallery was not some sort of aberration or act of charity on her behalf. I will treat this as a trade or substitute, if you will. A blonde for a blonde. That almost sounds like a game.

**Santana**: Q is flipping her shit. She's going to see Berry tomorrow and she still hasn't _grown a pair_ to show up and show Rachel how she really feels. I swear if I were there right now I'd be forcing her to show up to that damn coffee shop. I almost lost B once, so I know a cowardly decision when I see one. I may have been a pressed lemon, but Quinn is a whole fucking tree.

**Rachel**: Rachel Hudson never sounded right to me. Rachel Berry-Fabray? Rachel Fabray-Berry? Rachel Fabray?

RBFB or RBBF? I think I prefer Fabray-Berry… but I might be getting a tad bit ahead of myself.

**Prama**: Oh Shiva, Allah, Buddha, God, Jesus, Darwin, Gaia, Einstein and all who are holy. Please give Quinn the strength to go to the Lemon Bar tomorrow and allow herself to be happy. Thank you.

**Rachel**: I had such a wonderful time at coffee with Christine. She is truly a delight. Smart, funny, witty, slightly sarcastic, and beautiful to boot with those sparkling blue eyes. She is everything one could hope for in a friend. I am certain she has several of them in various circles as most people raised in affluent communities do. Her love for politics, however, is a foreign concept to me. My daddies never paid any attention to politics growing up as they said they are all blessed with the gift of gab and were full of hot air. As you can tell, my fathers have little faith in politicians. After I told Christine as much, she said that that was mostly true and informed me that that is actually how Chicago received its epithet as the Windy City, contrary to popular belief that it derives from the windy weather.

But enough about that blonde. _My_ blonde is currently en route to New York. I have gone over my potential outfit for our potential meeting tonight at least two dozen times and each time I discover that nothing is right. Should Quinn and I take an affirmative step in the direction of beginning a romantic relationship tonight, I want to look as pleasing as possible. Can you believe it? In a matter of hours I may be able to call Quinn Fabray my girlfriend and not just a girl who is a friend. I miss speaking with her so much and being near her even more. I hope the feelings are mutual. I blame Sara for amping up my optimism as she said Quinn's loving feelings toward me were evident from them moment she walked into the living room. I also blame my character's unbridled belief in true love from my upcoming musical debut, _The Golden Grove_. Oh Barbra I hope they're right.

**Quinn**: Rachel's taste in music has gotten so good and I just can't stop listening to this song she gave me. I've pretty much been listening to it on repeat the entire ride down. It's as if Yuna knows. Leave it to Rachel to find a song that says it all.

_I'd rather stay inside than be out tonight. Just sipping on coffee with nothing to look forward to savoring my solitude. And no one will ever know you the way I do._

_In hi-definition I'm thinking of you. In my disposition I'm losing my cool. With my everything I'd give anything to be with you._

_And I will try my best to let it subside. I'm letting go without taking any part of something that my heart truly wants. And no one will ever see you the way I do. _

Do you think she really feels that strongly about me? She said she liked me, but the feelings this song portrays are much deeper than a simple crush. It's a pining. Can you imagine Rachel singing this song? Just thinking about it gives me the chills.

Is it lame that I have actually stayed in and drank coffee thinking about life – Rachel included? When did she become such an influence in my life? Or maybe the better question is, when hasn't she? God, she makes things so difficult.

When I think about Rachel, I smile involuntarily. When people ask if I'm seeing anyone, I say it's complicated. In part, that's true, isn't it? But I also do it to keep the weirdos away. I mean, I'm not really looking for a relationship with a guy right now. When I get hit on by girls, it's flattering, but of course I always politely decline… there's no need to hurt anyone's feelings. And when I think of Rachel, I can't help but miss her and wish she was with me… because I enjoy her company. You know… just to hang out… or because I like her presence near me. Why must she be so beautiful inside and out?

If only she could see herself the way I do.

**Rachel**: The Lemon Bar has the perfect amount of people in it. Not too many that Quinn may miss me, but not too few that I will stick out like a sore thumb. Juuuuust right, as Goldilocks would say. Due to my nerves, I am earlier than usual. Twenty-five minutes to be exact.

6:05 pm

Perfect. There's a cute light jingling bell perched on the doorway announcing the latest patron's entrance and the welcome sign at the door is too adorable. "Rise and grind!" I most definitely will not miss Quinn's arrival. However, I am early enough to think up a million ways Quinn may be obstructed from reaching her destination – me – while also drinking straight black coffee. I am running on pure energy and caffeine right now. My red rose is situated beside me and I am facing the door in order to see her as soon as she graces this shop with her presence.

6:07 pm

That barista who gave me the free lemon bar keeps looking my way and is truly beginning to irritate me because his vibes are creeping me out and he is diverting my attention from the entrance. I wonder what Quinn will be wearing. I am absolutely certain whatever it is will be positively stunning. Perhaps she will be wearing some more sheer tights…

6:14 pm

I imagine her hair to be held down by a cute headband with her bangs swooped gently to her left side.

6:20 pm

I can picture her wonderful smile now as she gingerly pulls open the door and searches for me in the crowd, slightly panicked yet hopeful.

6:24 pm

Perhaps her bus encountered some traffic on the way in.

6:27 pm

Or maybe she was mugged! Oh heavens, I hope not! Maybe I should call her and make sure she is safe.

6:29 pm

She's coming. I just know it.

6:33 pm

She's running late. That's all. Good things come to those who wait. I am a very patient person you know.

6:45 pm

I have sent her 8 text messages. I am truly concerned about her whereabouts. She should have been here by now.

7:04 pm

Maybe she got lost… or maybe she's made her choice. New York is quite a difficult metropolis to navigate at night, after all.

7:11 pm

This didn't work for Meg Ryan. Why on earth did I think it would work for me? How did I get the signs wrong? Was I too pushy? Why did she keep texting me good night and good morning every day if she was only going to do this. That's just cruel. Was this all part of the evilest longest con? Why did she rub circles into my hand as she held it lovingly while I got my tattoo? Moreover, why did she kiss my bandaged covered wound after said tattoo – on my ribs.

Seriously? What straight girl does that?

7:22 pm

Now I just look pathetic staring at that stupid gold bell as it jingles for the millionth time because of some random. I'm sure everyone feels sorry for the girl sitting at the table alone with the red rose and the breakingly hopeful look on her face. Well fuck them. I wish she would at least text me letting me know she's ok.

7:29 pm

I can't go home with her on the train now. Even ten minutes on a train with her will be too much for me to handle. I will simply stay here and grieve alone. I'm sure my daddies will be understanding of the random last-minute emergency winter break required dress rehearsal. Whatever it takes not to be humiliated by her again. Why do I feel as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest? I have never felt this before with anyone. This is what it must feel like having the dementor's kiss performed on you. I can literally see my soul escaping my body, dissipating into the stifling hot coffee-scented air of this café. I shall walk around as a zombie trapped in the shell of an ex-human being. The people will hunt me with stakes and garlic and I won't care.

**Quinn**: I am going to be unacceptably late. I am unacceptable. I had to hop off my cab because there was no way I was going anywhere in that bumper-to-bumper traffic. Doesn't it always feel that way? It's as if any time you _really_ need to be somewhere at a certain time, some greater force decides to throw every conceivable obstacle in your way - traffic, you lose your keys, debit card stops working, phone dies, tsunami - you name it.

I'm 4 blocks away but I can't will my legs to go any faster with all of this damn luggage. The pavement is wet beneath my boots from the melted snow and if I don't make it soon, I'm going to be adding my own tears to it and as you know, Fabrays do not shed tears in public. The sounds of the city are amplified in the winter as every honk, siren, and cell phone ring tone assault my hearing. Couples pass by holding mitten-covered hands and huddling close together to keep warm. They all look so happy. So peaceful.

I can't be late.

I can't.

**Rachel**:

7:36 pm

Have you ever been stood up before? You have this stupid naive belief that that person is going to come through looking a mess saying how sorry they were for the horrible traffic and make everything better, but a larger part of you, the realistic side, tells you that a normal person would have called or texted you if they had been actually stuck in traffic for an hour. That if you didn't get that kind of text, then they're not late; they were never coming. There's an ugly twisting in the pit of my stomach with all of the anger, sadness, hope, and realizing blindness to my own fucking little school girl naivety. I can't help but feel anger, but not towards her, towards myself. She was following her heart and letting me down gently. I was the fucktard who saw what she wanted to see and pushed too hard to make it happen. I suppose even friends sometimes have intimate moments that mean nothing.

And the worst part is that I know what everyone in here is thinking about the girl who's been sitting by herself for an hour with a simple cup of coffee and staring at the door with hopeful eyes.

_Poor girl._

Well fuck them and their pity. I don't need it.

**Quinn**: I can see it. I'm so close.

**Rachel**:

7:37 pm

Wait! The door just opened and I can see short blonde hair being held by a headband but someone is blocking this person's face. Can it be her? I'd recognize that hair anywhere. She came! I knew it! I just knew she'd come! Ahhhhhhhhh- what?

"You're still here, Rachel," she said with a sad look on her face.

Scalding salty tears ran down my cheeks as her face came into view. My throat finally betrayed me and quivered pathetically. "Christine…"

**Quinn**: I made it to the train station just in time to catch the next train home. I don't know what state Rachel's in, but at least we won't have to ride together in complete awkwardness.

I hope she doesn't hate me, but I just couldn't do that to her. I suppose that means her January visit to New Haven is off.

Fuck me. I need to get out of this city now. Fuck.


	7. Chapter 7: Auld Lang Syne

**A/N: You guys are awesome with all of the reviews, alerts, favorites and such. Thank you all so much for reading. The song in the last chapter was Coffee by Yuna. Now, onto the show.**

* * *

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 7: Auld Lang Syne

**Quinn**: I can't sleep. Every time I lay my head down to my pillow and stare into the ceiling I imagine what she must have looked like at The Lemon Bar. I imagine her beautiful face trying to stay brave in front of all of those strangers with her mouth set in a resolute slight pucker, but her expressive eyes can always give away how she's truly feeling and if they're anything like they were when I let her down in the past, I can see the utter sadness and hurt that makes me as nauseated and tiny now as it did then.

I'm a coward. The only thing that's changed from the girl who used to throw slushies at her face is the clothing and the location. Gone is my red Cheerios uniform and in place are clothes that I thought were the real me, someone Lucy could have been proud of had I let her just be. I know some people say clothes can change a person, but I've only changed costumes, and there in lies the difference. This is exactly why I did what I did. Maybe this is me growing and being braver, or maybe that's just my excuse.

The train ride home was miserable as I cried silently to myself against the window drawing stars on a notepad over and over around the words "I'm sorry," but if I was really sorry, wouldn't I have shown up? All I could listen to was her song and just like it said, I'm going to let any feelings subside and let go of her regardless of what my heart truly wants. I let go of Rachel Berry because in the end, we all know that I would have only hurt her, broken her heart irreparably. I may be a bitch, but I could never do that. I'm such a coward that I didn't even call my parents to pick me up early from the train station. I seriously contemplated walking all the way home in the cold in hopes that the bitter wind would numb my aching heart, too, but instead I called Brit. She hugged me and wiped the tears from my eyes and let me cry on her shoulder. No questions asked. She drove us around aimlessly with a local AM station that only plays Christmas Carols for the entire month of December quietly humming along in the background. Lima passed me by outside the warmth of her car's interior like a long-lost memory of a place I used to know, and wholeheartedly the wrong place I wanted to be in. There are no yellow taxis zooming in and out, no bright lights and streets that always seem to be wet by an invisible rain. No steam pouring out of grates or people racing to get to someplace important. There's no Broadway advertisements and no gold 424B placards.

Brittany didn't have to ask because she already knew. She always knows. "You don't have to tell me why, but you know San's gonna want to know why you didn't show up, Quinn."

I swallowed roughly at her words and like the coward I am, moved my head up and down silently, because she was right and I knew I'd have to answer to Santana at one point in time or another. San was flying in tomorrow, and if her one text was anything to go buy, I'd have to pray for a Christmas miracle for this conversation not to happen any time soon.

_Santana Lopez – We need to have a talk._

"She loves you, Quinn. Please remember that. Even if she may be a little hard on you, it's because she loves you and wants you to be happy. Kind of like Coach Sylvester," Brittany adds as an afterthought. "And if she's too mean, I'll make sure she says she's sorry. And… I'm always around if you want to talk, too." Brittany reached over and grabbed my hand as it rested on my lap. She always seems to radiate heat. Even when we were kids, she was the one to warm up both San and I. I used to think it was because she was always so active, but now, even in winter, I think her warmth emanates from her inner kindness and love. Now more than ever, I need some love in my life.

But my mom only made things worse by skirting the subject. After her inquisition about Yale and my classes, she asked about Santana and Brittany out of a sense of faux obligation, but purposefully omitted Rachel. She knew we had grown close over the summer, that I visited her in New York, and that I allegedly came down with her on the train, but she didn't even to bother to ask how she is or how her semester went. Although I should have been grateful that I didn't have to talk about her, it was by virtue that she was essentially erased from my group of friends that made her the _only_ thing I could think of and pray to God that this erasure wouldn't be a permanent happening.

So here I am, tossing and turning in the foreign sheets that I know where just opened this morning from some commercial plastic wrapper. No doubt a new purchase from the local Linens N' Things. Mr. Schue's ex-wife could have even been the person to sell them to my mom or check her out. The smell of plastic is strong and sterile, like a hospital. I'm dreading talking to Santana, I'm looking forward to seeing Beth with Puck, and I'm trying to suffocate the voice inside my head that's pleading with me to pick up the phone and beg for forgiveness. _Of course. NOW you speak up_. Counting my blessings instead of sheep won't be happening tonight. Tossing and turning. Turning and tossing.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

**Rachel**: How can you miss something you never had? Is that even possible?

**Santana**: I honestly thought she was going to show up. I really did. So you can imagine that I was pretty let down when I got a text from Rachel that was short and simple. I knew she was hurting pretty bad. She wasn't dramatic or her typical verbose – yes I know big words, too – self.

_Berry – She didn't come._

I have an idea why she didn't show up, but the least she can do is explain herself. If not for herself, for Rachel's sake. I left B in the dark for so long that I almost lost her. Later, she told me how much she would rather have had a real explanation instead of silence. I swore then that I would never shut her out again come hell or high water. And leave it to Rachel to give Quinn an escape clause. Rachel wants Q's friendship more than anything and knew there was a chance that it might not work out. The trick will be to see how long it'll take for their friendship to get back to some sense of normalcy.

Too bad. They would have made a good couple.

**Kurt**: Rachel is scaring me. When I got her phone call, I came as quickly as I could. Dad and I aren't flying home to Lima until Wednesday, so I definitely had a few days to spare to be whisked away to my favorite city on the planet. Before I reached her apartment in the Village, which is super cute and I'm totally jealous of, I stopped by a corner organic food market and picked up some patented Rachel Berry essentials and a soy chai tea latte.

A stranger's voice answered the intercom and buzzed me in and I found Rachel on the couch with her feet curled beneath her and the remote control in her hand. Some crime show was on the TV. If I didn't know her as well as I do, she would have tricked me into thinking she was perfectly fine, but I knew better. Her complacent face masked the emotionless automaton beneath. After her break up with Finn, she was a mess of tears and snot, draped across her bed crying woe is me. But this Rachel, this one is plain scary.

"I brought you a soy chai tea latte, Rach. I'm sorry I didn't realize you'd have company or else I would have brought your friend here one, too."

"Kurt, it's so wonderful to see you. And how rude of me. Kurt this is Christine. Christine this is Kurt, a dear friend of mine from high school," Rachel said cordially.

"Christine Daaé? I tease. Christine, it's nice to meet you. I take it you were the one that rescued her?"

"I don't know if I'd call it a 'rescue,' but yes. I found Rachel and helped her out of a sticky situation," the tall blonde with strikingly beautiful blue eyes said modestly. "Well, now that Kurt's here, I suppose I'll leave you two alone to catch up, but if you need anything – anything at all – just text me. Ok, Rach?"

Rachel reached out and gingerly cupped both of Christine's hands as if she were trying to kindle a fire. "Thank you so much for everything, Christine. You really are a lifesaver and I am grateful to have at least one true friend in this lonely city I live in. I'll be in touch." With a final tight yet slightly awkward hug, the blonde left.

I didn't know exactly where to start. School? Her upcoming musical debut? The random blonde who I couldn't help but notice instantly reminded me of Quinn at first glance? Or said blonde who always manages to hurt her?

"I'm going to wash these fruits and put them in the fridge. I'm here whenever you're ready to talk, okay sweetie?"

A single tear slid down her cheek as her Stepford Wives exterior melted away to reveal the broken little girl who used to get slushied on a regular basis. On anyone else, it would have been pathetic, but watching Rachel's chin quiver as her hands wrapped around her stomach caused my heart to break as well. I ran to catch her in my arms before she collapsed to the ground from grief. Even the fruit empathized with Rachel's powerful emotions as blueberries rained down onto the floor and rolled every which way.

**Christine**: Hello. I'm Christine. It's so nice to formally meet you. I'm not going to pretend that I'm Rachel's best friend or anything because I'm not; I've only really known her for about a month or so. But I will say that while our friendship is budding, I feel lucky to have met her and hope to become better friends in the future.

I would be lying if I didn't admit that I flirted with her openly when we first met, but after getting to know her more formally over coffee, I realized she wasn't on the market. She told me all about her friend, Quinn, and it was obvious that they were in the middle of having a thing, so I let it be and placed myself in the friend zone. We talked about everything, about life and our hopes and fears, our likes and dislikes. She told me about this insanely romantic idea she'd been pondering over to take the next step with this girl and I couldn't help but swoon. Wouldn't you? I completely encouraged her, partly because I'm a huge romantic, and partly because I didn't think anyone could turn down such a gesture from such a beautiful person.

But apparently some people can. Rachel had told me she was going to invite Quinn to a local coffee shop, although I didn't pry as to which one. As luck would have it, I was leaving my copy editor's apartment after a short staff meeting at his place – because he's kind of a hipster and likes to have meetings on his living room rug – and decided to grab a hot chocolate on my way home at this cute little coffee shop I've always seen but never entered. Well, you know that feeling you get when someone is looking at you? As soon as I walked in, I felt it. So instinctually, I looked for the source and saw Rachel sitting at a table alone looking incredibly broken with a lone red rose.

I didn't see another cup of coffee next to her, nor any bags. The chair looked completely untouched and her face said everything. She croaked out my name and I knew that I had to get her out of there as quickly as possible. Hell, it had been over an hour after she said they were supposed to meet and it would be cruel to allow her to suffer any more than she already had.

Traffic was terrible for some odd reason, but she said she lived a few blocks away, so I walked her back to her place. I didn't want to overstay my welcome, but I didn't think she should be alone right now either, so I asked her if she'd like me to stay. I actually had a date later that night, but I ducked out to call her and cancel – helping a friend is much more important than a first date.

So like a good friend, I sat there and listened to her vent and tell me her history with Quinn. It was very complicated and would make a great soap opera, for sure, but after hearing everything, I could kind of understand where Quinn was coming from. Maybe that's not the right thing to do when the girl whose heart she just broke is in front of me, but I can relate to her fear. But I'm Rachel's friend, not hers, so I'll do what any good friend would do and try to distract her and help her make bad decisions until she can move on with her life and throw her metaphorical reel out into the proverbial dating sea.

**Rachel**: I have always been a glass half full kind of girl, so I am trying to count my blessings, and thanks the heavens for my health, my family, and my friends. If I ever thought that I was alone, I have realized now that that is not the case. Kurt's stay was wonderful and exactly what I needed. He put things into perspective for me and allowed me to be dramatic when I needed to be. Santana surprised me with her genuine concern, sympathy, and promise to give Quinn a vicious tongue lashing. Again, had you told me three years ago Santana Lopez would be calling on me every few hours to make sure I was okay, I would have suggested you receive a mental examination, but I sincerely value and cherish our friendship, even if it is a tad bit strange from time to time.

My fathers immediately perceived my lack of conviction and knew there were no emergency rehearsals. So I acquiesced and told them that I had an amatory solecism and would be back to my old self in no time. In true Berry fashion, they surprised me and said that if Rachel Berry will not come to Lima, Lima will come to Rachel Berry. My daddies will be with me here for a few days during Hanukkah and I cannot wait! My dad forbade me to put up a Christmas tree without him, so I have my menorah, mini Christmas tree stand, and ornaments ready to go. However, I did mention that Christine might be joining us while they're here as she said no one should light the first candle alone. They seemed thrilled that I had a friend who can appreciate and relate to our idiosyncrasies.

And I musn't forget Christine. She has been such a wonderful friend. Whether she accompanies me to Macy's as I search for the perfect presents for my fathers or invites me to lunch at her father's social club for which I was very glad I smartened my dress.

Please do not think ill of me. Quinn still plagues my thoughts, but she had every right to do what she did. I told her that I did not thoroughly expect her to return my feelings and gave her an out not to show up. I truly do revere our friendship and hope that in time, I can move past this slight and pick up where we left off… minus my incorrect presumptions.

**Sara**: I couldn't believe Quinn. That girl has got some serious nerve because it's so blatantly obvious she has feelings for Rach. Anyways, I'm spending most of the holidays with my folks, but I told Rachel that we are gonna do New Year's Eve big. I met my boyfriend during a New Year's Eve party last year around Times Square and he was my first kiss into the New Year, so we kind of want to make that our thing. Seeing as how this is Berry's first year in New York, she _has_ to do Times Square for New Years, too. Besides, she needs to stop moping around and live a little. You better believe I'm gonna get her good and liquored up!

Christine tried to call dibs on taking Rach to this high-brow New Year's Eve party with her hoity-toity friends, but I said no way Jose, I already called dibs. She's lucky Rachel's so nice. We came to a compromise: Me and Joe are gonna crash her friend's party, and then she's going to come get retarded with us at Times Square! Champagne to 40s all in one night. Now _that_ sounds like a good time!

**Quinn**: So a Christmas miracle did happen! A friend of Hazel's was supposed to study abroad in Argentina for the spring, but a spot opened up in the Paris program and since that girl's also a French major, she jumped at the chance. As soon as the spot opened up, Hazel thought of me, seeing as how I took that film class. So either I could pick up the empty spot, or she looses out on a lot of money. Of _course_ I jumped at the chance. A couple of forms, an expedited passport, and Frommer's Argentina later, and Quinn Fabray is saying _¡Adios! _to the Northern Hemisphere and _¡Hola! _to summer time in Buenos Aires.

Like I said before, I'm not really sure what I want to do with my life right now. Isn't that kind of the point of being young? The time and distance from everything and everyone I know can only be a good thing. My New Year's resolution is to find myself in South America.

But first, I have to survive a serious conversation with Santana. I hope she goes easy on me.

**Santana**: So I kind of had to lay the smack down on Q. She knows that I know that she likes Rachel. It's been so obvious and she's said some things that definitely pointed all signs to gay… or at least gay for Berry. And then there was all that weirdness right before we left where all of the sudden they stopped talking. I mean, Q didn't say they stopped talking per se, but a bitch can use context clues. When the girl goes from mentioning Rachel at least 3 times a day to sudden silence or "I don't know if she's moved in yet, I haven't talked to her since I moved up," that's kind of suspicious. Like I said, awesome gaydar, and all of that.

I know Q didn't want to hear it, but she needs to know that her actions may have cost her her only chance with Rachel. You know, I had to put things in perspective. She looked sad, but when it comes to love, there's no buyer's remorse. I told her Rachel was holding up and had a good foundation of friends to help her get through it, because let's be real, no one wants to be alone during the holidays. I think this little nugget of truth shook her the most and to be honest, I think she might have been a little jealous. She mentioned Christine, and although I've never met her, I know she's really been helping Rachel out by doing the one thing Rachel's ever wanted from anyone – be her friend. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Q. She said, "but I'm her friend, too." I had to remind her that she is also the person that's making her feel pretty shitty right now. I can only hope that Q did what she did for the right reasons, but I couldn't get much out of her other than her saying, "it was for the best." Not once did she say that she didn't like her or that she's not that into that. Having feelings wasn't the problem, it was feeling the feelings that did her in, I think.

She didn't know Rachel didn't come down. She said she's pretty much stayed cooped up in her house or would go to the grocery store on the other side of town just in case they were to bump into each other. That's like a whole different level of sad I can't even comprehend, but Rachel was more than one step ahead of her and decided to stay a few states away. That sure did the trick.

Above all, I told her that if she ever wants to continue having a friendship with Rachel, she needs to be completely honest with her or else she'll feel shut out and never trust her again. And whether or not telling her that I honestly thought Rachel would still welcome her with open arms if she surprised her in New York was a good idea, I don't know, but I have no problem playing the devil's advocate.

**Quinn**: She stayed. She never came down.

_Fuck! I'm such an idiot!_

I totally ruined her winter break. She's so mad that she can't even stand to be in the same city as me. I just completely fucked our friendship and I don't know if I can ever get it back. You only get so many second chances and I think I've had more than my fill from Rachel. Why would anyone take me back after I did that? Who stands people up before Christmas?

Apparently assholes like me. And the Fabray genes continue.

But do you think Santana's right? Do you think I still have a chance? But even if I did, would I take it? Should I?

See, these are the types of questions that keep me up at night. Thoughts of Rachel and I together in love and happy are just that, daydreams, fantasies. No. I need to find myself and what I want in life and I'm going to do it in Argentina. _Y así quedó._

**Sara**: BEST. NEW. YEARS. EVERRR!

**Christine**: Holy shit I'm drunk.

**Sara**: EEEEHHHH-VUUURRRHHHH!11!1!

**Rachel**: I feel soooo good right now. I know I'm supposed to be cold right now, but I'm actually kinda sweaty. It's probably all of the "booze," as Noah would call it, that I had tonight. We're packed up against a jillion other people wearing blue foamy hats and they were throwing free chapstick in the air, which was _so_ considerate of that mysterious lip-hydrating benefactor!

The million tiny lightbulbs that are front and center right beneath The Ball say there are two more minutes left until 2013 and I can't wait. My daddies and I used to watch the ball drop every year and now I'm here! I wonder if I'll see Ryan Seacrest tonight. I still can't believe Quinn got him tattooed on her lower back! I feel like I'm living my dream come true… except I don't have anyone to kiss at midnight.

"Wait! Announcement! I don't have anyone to kiss at midnight. You have Joe, but I have no one."

"I don't mind sharing," Sara says.

"No it has to be right _at_ midnight and we can't both kiss him! No offense, Joe."

"What am I, chopped liver?"

"Of course not, Christine Eliza Bellefleur! If you were to be any organ, you'd be a brain… or a liver, an invaluable human organ!"

"Thank you! As you can see, I don't have anyone to kiss at midnight, either. Would you be so kind as to do me the honors?" she finished off in a thick Southern drawl.

"Only – only 'cause you asked so nicely," I manage to slur out while taking a swig of our special Y2KIII juice. And yes, you have to say I, I, I not 3. Why-two-kay-i-i-i Juice!

TEN-

NINE-

EIGHT-

SEVEN-

**Quinn**: Ryan's looking a little tired this year. Here's hoping that 2013 is better than the last. _Feliz año nuevo a mi._

**Rachel**:

FOUR-

THREE-

"Pucker up, Eliza!"

TWO-

ONE-

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I lean in to lay one thick on Christine on my tippy toes because she's a few inches taller than me and she turns her head, giving me her cheek! What the heck? Is there something really so wrong with me that my good friend, a gay friend, can't even give me a kiss?

But then she grabs my head and kisses my cheek back.

"Happy New Year, Rachel Berry."

"Happy New Year, Christine."

We hugged and smiled and started hugging strangers and shaking hands. After I hugged everyone around me, I grasped onto her again so I wouldn't fall over and we just held each other. I watched the confetti flow from the sky without a care in the world, when I heard an all too familiar tune being sung quietly into my ear.

_Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forget and auld lang syne._

She has a calming singing voice. It's like a lullaby.

**Christine**: My New Year began by kissing Rachel Berry respectfully, hugging her, and singing to her. I don't know if it could have been better any other way. I think I may be in trouble. I'm starting to have feelings for her, but I could never act on it. She's my friend and she's in a vulnerable position.

Friend zone. Friend zone.

But do I have to stay there? No, it doesn't matter. We're friends and we should stay that way. I'd like to have at least _one_ girl friend who never becomes a girlfriend, but I've never had a friend like this, who's so wonderful. I'll leave it to fate. She may meet someone. I may meet someone. And despite it all, we'll remain friends. I really should stop picking smart beautiful talented witty sexy spunky quick-tempered friends.

**Rachel**: Should I forget my old acquaintance? No. I don't think I ever could, but perhaps I can forget her in a romantic sense and move on. Yes. Yes this I should do, but do I want to?

2013: to new beginnings and a new chapter of love.


	8. Chapter 8: Take Two

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 8: Take Two

**Brittany**: We're so excited to see Rach's opening night. San made sure that I got the weekend off to take the train to NY where she'll meet me at Union Station. She would never admit it to Rachel, but she's totally proud of her. Everyone back in glee club is super excited for her, too! But the one person that wanted to see this the most, the one person who would mean the most to her, isn't here and that makes me sad because who wants to miss their favorite bicorn show off their awesomeness?

We all knew Q had promised Rachel she'd be here opening night, front and center because Rach kept asking us if we thought she'd hop on a flight from Argentina and surprise her after all. That would be suuuper romantic, but I'm just not sure it's going to happen. I wish Quinn wasn't so stubborn and sad, but I hope she's having fun in Argentina. I know some people say that some things just aren't meant to be, but that doesn't work here. Quinn and Rach _are_ meant to be, they just don't know it yet. I can promise you that. It's kind of a gift, but sometimes my spidey senses are a curse. Want me to read your palm?

**Quinn**: So I said I would be there and I really want to be, but that kind of ticket is _so_ expensive. I'm not a short train ride away anymore and maybe it's best that I not be there. We haven't spoken since mid-December, so I'm sure we'd just be awkward and I'd distract Rachel from her performance. Besides, I bet she's still mad at me… I know I would be.

Changing the subject – Argentina is awesome! It's so hard to even describe. My host family is so awesome and they're more like a real family than any family I've ever had, which is kind of sad if I'm being honest. My host mom, Angelica, is sassy yet poised and owns her own little bakery, so we always have fresh bread. My host dad, Joaquin, is a tall slender man with an easy genuine smile that always reaches his bright brown eyes. He's the stay at home dad and is an _amazing_ cook. Both of my host parents insist that I call them _mamá _and _papá_, which is definitely a foreign concept to me seeing as I've only known them for a few short weeks. I also have a host brother and sister, Leo and Eva, respectively. Eva is 16 and cannot wait to go onto university. 16 doesn't seem that long ago to me – well it does and it doesn't – but I don't consider myself to be "old," but Eva seems to think I'm this magical older person who's got all of her stuff together. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I came here _because_ I am lost. There's no halfway point in being lost either. It's like being pregnant – and trust me, I'd know – you're either pregnant or you're not. There's no such thing as being a little pregnant. There's no such thing as being a little lost; you're either on the map or you're not. Sorry, but Siri won't be of any use with helping you find yourself in life… believe me I tried.

_Siri, where am I in life?_

_I do not know where you are, but you can help me find out. Turn on "location services" in the setting menu._

And Leo, well he's an adorable green eyed 10-year-old boy who's unusually tall and lanky for his age and has the biggest crush on me. It's so cute how obvious it is. I try to ease the situation, but even when I'm simply nice to him, it's as if I'm giving him the world. Now why can't I please everyone, or maybe even just Rachel, like that?

We've all bonded so quickly, partly because I was so willing for someone to find me and guide me back to some sort of life path that I clung to their familiarity and sincerity selfishly as if it were always my own. And partly because they're all so genuinely nice. This is the second year they have volunteered to be a host family and apparently last year was a trial year that could have definitely gone better, but was fun enough to hook them in. _Mamá y Papá _love the fact that their kids have the opportunity to trade cultures, while practicing their English with real Americans.

I've also fallen in love with the country. Our Spanish class took a field trip to some famous Argentinian grasslands where we met real life _gauchos_, or cowboys, who totally knew how to rock real gaucho pants. I had to buy myself a pair and they're super comfy, by the way. Then we took a trip up the Andes Mountains and went paragliding!

Hello, my name is Quinn Fabray and I _had_ a control problem. When I was getting ready to jump off the edge of that incredibly high cliff while strapped onto someone else, I really didn't have a choice but to give up control. If I freaked and tried to stop us, we'd probably take a nose dive and die. I thought my stomach was going to come out of my ears as we stood on the edge and my tandem jumper checked our gear out one more time. The cool wind that ran through the Andes, you know, elevation and all that, was running through my hair and all I could think of was the fact that I never got to explain myself to Rachel before I died, but then before he even counted down from four, we were off the cliff and floating in the air. I had a spiritual moment. I felt as if G-d had a hand on our glider. Weightlessness. That's how I'd describe it. Despite the fact that I was strapped to a 150 pound man, I felt light as a feather, completely safe and effortless, as if all of my worries literally stayed behind on that mountain, and in that moment of extreme comfort and relief, I cried. I cried happy tears and screamed from the top of my lungs.

The sky never looked so blue before, the air never so revitalizing. It was perfection. It was my new beginning. I finally found my clarity.

**Rachel**: Opening night is just around the corner and I'm so excited! Everyone's coming to watch my first off-Broadway debut in New York.

Well, almost everyone.

But my dads, San and Brit, Kurt, Sara and Joe, and Eli will be there. And by Eli, I mean Christine Eliza, who has been shortened over time to just Eli. I like it. I think it suits her quite well. What's wrong with a female Eli? Liz just didn't feel right on her.

I am beginning to get my first bout of pre-performance jitters, namely because my character has a minor solo in one of the numbers towards the end. I can only hope that this show will get me the right exposure I need to jumpstart my career, which is why I have to be right on, yet I still seem to be distracted by a certain blonde who has apparently jumped ship – literally – to South America and has completely abandoned her facebook. How am I supposed to stay updated on her relevant current events when she goes into seclusion? You can't, that's how! No stalking allowed. Not that I would consider myself a stalker or some other base hobbyist such as that.

Let's see. Sound check _could_ have gone more smoothly, but I think minor disasters are good luck omens. An entire strip of lights exploded at the beginning of the dress rehearsal, which was so scary. Apparently someone had crossed some lines and there was too much electricity going to that one strip. I cannot be entirely certain as that is not my expertise, but after we continued without those particular lights, and the rest went well. My voice is ready, I am stretched, my wardrobe is all in order, my makeup has been applied, my good luck teddy bear from my daddies is sitting on top of my bag behind me, Eli's Valentine's gift on my left – a white oleander, and _her_ gift on my right staring at me. She got me a Christmas present after all, can you believe that?

It was a small simple matte black frame with a picture of us from the summer. I remember Brittany taking this picture, too. Quinn and I had been swimming in the lake and as the sun had finally said goodnight and we decided it was time for some sustenance, I realized I had left my towel in the house. We had been too excited and I simply jumped in. Quinn was so chivalrous and offered to get out first and retrieve my towel because "we don't want you to catch a cold and ruin that beautiful voice of yours." Brittany surprised us with a bright flash as Quinn was about to wrap my towel around me. We both look so happy. I'm slightly shivering and hunching under Quinn's cover while she laughs at the bright lights and whatever it was Brittany said to gain her attention. That was the night I knew my feelings for Quinn Fabray were not going to dissipate and that I didn't want them to. That was the night I noticed that she was always touching or nearly touching me. That was the night we held each other, not just a simple hug, as I was going to say my goodbye. That was the night that…

Didn't mean as much to her as it did to me, and if you'll excuse me, I need to refocus and get myself into character. Thank you. Oh, and if you don't mind, can you put this picture back into my bag? I don't know why I foolishly brought it with me.

**Christine**: Rachel is going to be amazing tonight, I just know it! I heard her practice her solo and I was totally blown away. Maybe I'm biased, but I think she should have gotten the lead. They probably assumed that because she was a first year, they should give it to an upper classmen. That's bullshit, but I have no doubt they're going to regret that _The Golden Grove_ starring Rachel Berry, didn't happen.

Her dads are _so_ nice and I have really enjoyed getting to know them over these past few months. My mom instantly loved the Berrys and invited them to coffee the next time they're back in town. I was actually a little embarrassed. She told me, "They'll make _great_ in-laws!" I'm pretty sure I died that day. What are you supposed to say to that? "Sorry mom but Rachel's kind of not done getting over someone and I put myself in the friend zone, and even though we made out one time at a party when we both were sober and I was the most turned on in my life I still don't want to be her rebound, even though I'd give my right arm for her to give me an actual chance." Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I honestly don't understand how Quinn got into Yale if she was stupid enough to willingly push away such a good thing. The phrase one man's trash is another man's treasure comes to mind, and while I like the sentiment, Rachel Berry could never be anyone's trash, so it doesn't apply here. Give me a minute and I can come up with something else.

The lights have dimmed a few times, which can only mean that the show's about to start! Front and center, 3rd row, between Hiram and Santana. I couldn't have asked for a better seat.

**Santana**: Is it creepy how much Christine looks like Quinn at first, minus the insanely blue eyes? Yes. Is it shitty that she's sitting where Q should be sitting? Yes. Do I wish Q had scrounged up some money and flown back to save the day? Fuck, yes. Am I mad that Q didn't respond to my million emails trying to convince her to make good on her word? Yes, stupid bitch. Do I hate this Rachel Berry snatcher sitting next to me? No. She's actually pretty cool. She's kind of like Rachel, in that she's outspoken even when you first meet her, but she's polite and kind in a way that you _want_ to get to know her. Rachel's dads love her and Brit thinks she's cool, too, especially considering that she said she'll get us in VIP at this super trendy club that has an awesome DJ to celebrate Rach's debut. Dancing and Brittany equals sold. Hell, I'll take some of that money, too. You think brunette's are her type? Law school's not going to pay for itself so I might as well start saving up now.

**Quinn**: I really hate public transportation. I'd rather be in Mr. Schue's Spanish class, which totally didn't prepare me at all, than in a bus in Buenos Aires. Oh well, beggars can't be choosers considering I've been pinching every penny and peso I've got and the price for a taxi would have been _demasiado_.

At least I have my music… _Realize I want you. In the strangest way I create you…_

**Rachel**: Performing in my first New York off-Broadway debut is _exhilarating_! My first scene went wonderfully. I suppose it helps that the story itself is heartbreaking and compelling and beautiful. Our scene took place in the kitchen of the female protagonist and Judith's best friend, Mary, at night. So because of the dim lights, I was actually able to spot my dads, Eli, Santana and Brittany, Sara and Joe, and Kurt. The whole crew. Eli's sapphire blue eyes were trained on me and I couldn't help but smile internally. She's been nothing shy of spectacular for me as both a friend and true confidant.

As I stand back here in the wings, I can't help but think about how differently everything panned out. I was supposed to be dating Quinn and her hazel, not blue, eyes were supposed to be watching me lovingly and with admiration. I was supposed to take trips to New Haven and see the sites like a real tourist when she came to visit me. We were supposed to hang out at little mom n' pop coffee shops and play board games, listen to indie bands I've never heard of, and read books in the park. I was supposed to join her and cheer on Handsome Dan as Yale creams Harvard in the fall. But instead, here I am, staring at my family and friends, and a new familiar face with eyes like the ocean that steady and pacify me. We have talked about our feelings after she confided in me that she no longer has a strictly platonic bond towards me. I know that I appreciate her and care for her, and I told her as such. I also told her that I was unsure if I could give myself to a relationship, no matter how beautiful or handsome my suitor may be, if I am not completely over my previous… affections. She understood and graciously continued to be my friend, but how long can I ignore her? Especially after that party. I wasn't drunk when we made out. I can't say I hated it, either. Eli's actually very… skilled. Can I admit that I have a crush on her? I mean, who doesn't, really?

Yes, I do have a crush on Eli. She's smart, beautiful, witty, poised, affluent yet kind, patient, and generous. I don't know. Half of me says that Quinn is gone. She left the freaking continent to get away from me! The other half says, so what? You've waited for love before, so why stop now? And why should I stop now, when there's someone who could potentially love me sitting front and center in the third row? Someone who gave me a beautiful flower and wished me luck, and whose lingering kiss on the cheek gave me butterflies. Perhaps I really should have traded blondes. Looks like Eli and I need to have a little tête-à-tête after the show and once the liquor service begins in our private VIP section – well, Rachel Berry may not be responsible for her actions. It is Valentine's Day after all.

**Brittany**: This is so wonderful! It's like Glee but seven times better. Rachel's so pretty and she's doing so good. It's like hers and Quinn's story. How did she _not_ get the lead? Maybe that's why she likes it so much. I looked at San halfway through and she gave me this look that said _are you freakin' kiddin' me_. She thinks so, too. I'll try to remember to ask Rach later.

**Christine**: Rach is amazing. Her fathers are fighting back tears every few minutes or so and I have to agree with them. I couldn't be more proud of her. I kind of can't believe she came from a small town in Ohio; talk about a diamond in the rough! I don't care what I get to call her, I'm just lucky to know that I'll be able to give her the biggest hug and kiss on the cheek after the show's over. I know her solo is coming up soon. I. Can't. Wait.

**Rachel**: "Mary, have faith yet, sister. George delivered your letter and I can feel it, deep down in my bones, that Ernest will join you. Now let me help you start packin' up your things. I can't let you runaway with only the clothes on your back."

"You- you really think so," Mary says through tears.

"He loves you, don't he?"

Mary nods her head.

"Then that's all that matters. Fate will fix the rest."

I begin to walk around the set and pull out an old small brown suitcase from under Mary's bed as she attempts to pull herself together and pack. Acoustic guitar, violins, and piano start to play…

_Don't let your mind get weary and confused your will be still, don't try. Don't let your heart get heavy child inside you there's a strength that lies. _

**Quinn**: I absolutely _love_ this song, and hearing Rachel sing it makes my heart feel like it's about to burst in the best possible way. I couldn't do it. I couldn't stay away. Ever since I went paragliding my entire perspective on life has changed. I guess you could say that I finally found myself in Argentina. I want to be happy and that means that I have to be who I truly I am. I am a girl in love with Rachel Berry.

So after some financial finagling and begging my parents for some extra money because heaven forbid something bad happen to me while I'm in another country, I hopped on a bus, a plane, a train, and walked to the theater where Rachel's off-Broadway New York debut is taking place.

I'm late. I know that and it's unacceptable, but I think there should be exceptions. The musical's almost over or so the usher tells me, but after seeing the simply wrapped gardenias in my arms with a night bag on my shoulder with my boarding pass from Buenos Aires sticking out, I think she got the hint that I was late because I just flew halfway across the world (vertically) and let me stand in the back. Rachel looks absolutely stunning even in her neutral toned slightly tattered A-line dress. She's singing her heart out. When she sings "be here now" she unintentionally looks down to the first few rows of seats in the center and then to the exit doors in the back with a longing look on her face.

_Is she looking for me? I seriously hope so._

One of the many things I decided on my ten and a half hour plane ride was that I was going to surprise Rachel in her dressing room with flowers and hope and pray that she would at least give me a chance to explain and not shut me out from her life. I sneak out the exit door after Rachel exits her scene. I can see that the show's almost over because the ushers are starting to move about and change the roped off areas. I'm walking as if I'm looking for a restroom, so no one pays me any mind, but I saw an actor rush off into a hallway on the far right of the atrium when I first entered the building. That hallway must lead backstage to the dressing rooms. I can't just go up to an usher and ask them to let me go back there. I can just hear him now:

"_And who are you?" _

"_I'm, um, I'm Rachel Berry's friend, semi-ex-girlfriend, someone important to her." _

"_Then why aren't you in the audience?"_

Yeah, that wouldn't fly. Ok, I'm definitely in the right hallway. Now I just have to find the right door. _Fuck_, I think the doors have the names of the characters on it and her name wasn't said during her number. Let's see, she was talking to someone named Mary… why the hell didn't I get a playbill?

Okay, think. I can rule out Mary, Ernest, and any other guy's name. Hmm, wait! This _has_ to be it.

**JUDITH***

The gold star sticker is a dead give away. I can hear a lot of clapping so the show must have just finished, which gives me about 10 minutes until she gets back after all of the curtain calls. The door knob is miraculously open and once I enter, I'm hit with a wall of Rachel Berryness. All of her products are here including her pink electric tooth brush, Clinique makeup remover, and her perfume that still permeates throughout the air over the plasticy smell of the brown makeup I'm assuming she used to make herself look slightly dirty and gritty. It's all so overwhelming. How can being in an empty room make you feel everything about its absent inhabitant? This place is completely foreign to me, yet it feels so comfortable to me by the sheer fact that Rachel's here. Behind her chair is a pink duffle with a teddy bear poking out, undoubtedly a gift from her dads, and a black frame.

_My_ black frame. I quickly reach into her bag, respecting her privacy to an extent, and pull out our picture only. We looked so happy then. I remember I didn't want the day to end, our last of the summer. I'm trying to be a half-full kind of person these days and hope beyond all hope that she brought this with her because she hoped, either consciously or unconsciously, that I would come – or maybe she brought it because I represent some sort of happy memory within her that would help her throughout her performance.

I can't help but bring the frame to my mouth and kiss her image. I simultaneously hated that day and loved it. Now, I wish that I had been in a better place so that I could have handled things differently. I wouldn't have reacted the way I did… but should've, could've, would'ves won't get me anywhere now.

There's a white flower I don't quite recognize on the counter. I wonder who gave it to her. G-d I need to figure out what to say to her. Should I shove the flowers in her face first? No, then it would seem like I was accosting her. Should I throw myself at her feet and beg for forgiveness? Too melodramatic.

Fuck, I should have thought this one out a little more. Think Fabray, think. Jeez! Would it be too much to ask for a few more square feet? How's a girl supposed to pace properly? I hope she likes my new top. Hell, I hope she talks to me. I can't believe how much she's improved in such a short time. Her voice was absolutely perfect. Ok, now I'm just rambling. Maybe I should have just stayed in Argentina. She's probably not expecting me.

**Rachel**: I'm officially addicted to musical theater. I received quite a loud applause when I stepped forward during the curtain call. My solo must have been a hit! My daddies were standing clapping and crying and hugging, throwing me kisses every now and then, while my friends looked so proud and happy. Theater is my drug and I will gladly live off this high for as long as I survive.

My cast mates are beside themselves and plan on going to various cast after parties, but my wonderful friend has us living the high life at 1202, the hottest club in New York. I know my dads are excited to see me, but I'm just going to pop into my dressing room and wipe off this dirty makeup. And Eli… yes, I should go for it.

"Your solo was simply fabulous, Rachel!"

"You are far too kind, Jonas. Thank you so much."

And here we are. **JUDITH***

I open my door to find my blonde friend pacing with her back to me. How sweet, Eli decided to surprise me. I'm honestly surprised she was allowed back here, but the sentiment's still the same.

"Hey you! I'm surprised you made it! I'm so happy to see you."

**Quinn**: Shit she's here. Stop moving and let her control things.

"Hey you! I'm surprised you made it! I'm so happy to see you."

She's moving about behind me like normal. It sounds like she's moving things on her countertop. What should I do? She's happy to see me? Maybe she's not mad at me after all. I knew Rachel Berry was forgiving, but this seems too easy. Ok, stop. She's the most sincere person I know. Take this as a good thing. She's happy to see me! I'm so excited to see her I can't turn around.

Screw it.

"Rachel," I say as I turn around and pull her into a passionate kiss.

She feels so right in my arms. My lips aren't tentative. I know exactly what I want. I hold her steady at the waist as she puts her hands on my face and pulls me in. She moans into my mouth as I explore her tongue with my own. I can't help but pin her against the countertop and she instinctually jumps up to sit on it. Rachel's mouth has always tasted like strawberry lip gloss. We're frantic and I peak my eyes open to watch us in the mirror. _Holy shit that's hot. _One of her hands is running roughly through my hair while the other pulls me toward her center by my hips. My body is buzzing with fire as I concentrate on the softness of her lips as they brush and caress my own.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper out quickly in between kisses. "I'm so sorry, but I'm here now."

I feel two hands push at my chest and I know I've said too much.

"Quinn – I th- thought you were… Shit."

**Rachel**: The first time I kissed Quinn Fabray, she pushed me away. The second time I kissed Quinn Fabray, I pushed her away.

I kissed Quinn Fabray.

She came. She flew halfway across the world to see me. She came to see _me_.

How could I have confused her with Eli initially? Oh shit. Eli.

_Fuck. Fuck me!_

Quinn takes a step back from me and looks extremely embarrassed. I jump off the counter, wipe my mouth, and straighten my dress. When did my zipper come slightly undone?

"Quinn, I don't know what to say. You came."

"I came, Rach. I know I'm late, but I came eventually. I'm so sorry. I was so stupid."

"Are you, really?"

"Yes! I should have showed up, I shouldn't have left you, but I'm here now. I flew nonstop from Buenos Aires and I'm here now. I'm here for you and I saw you sing. You were beyond words amazing."

"But I just- I don't quite understand. It's been two months. Why have you decided to talk to me now? Why didn't you answer my calls, texts, emails, facebook messages? Anything. I practically killed myself with worry over you while you've been off gallivanting in South America and now you expect me to be honky dory now that you're here?"

"You have every right to be mad at me, Rach, and I understand. You're right, but please let me try to explain. I can't lose you Rachel. You mean the world to me and I cannot – will not – lose you, and if that means that I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, then so be it. Please, just give me a chance Rach."

Oh Barbra, give me strength. I must admit I appreciate the dramatics of it all, but I don't know what to do with all of this information and sensory overload. Quinn Fabray just kissed the life out of me and is begging for my forgiveness.

"Are those for me?" I ask, looking at the flowers she dropped to the floor.

"Yes. Gardenias, just like the ones you picked for my corsage during junior prom."

"You've known?"

"Of course I have. Finn would have never picked such a beautiful meaningful flower. That, and you stared at it pretty intensely when we met up with you guys at Breadsticks. You seemed too interested in them to be simply admiring them. And that's when I knew."

"How long are you here?" I ask because I'd rather count down the time I have with her than foolishly waste it away only to have her leave me again too soon. Her beautiful smiles warms up the room at this question and I have to admit that I've missed it more than I ever thought possible.

"Two days. I fly out Sunday," she says with both hope and sadness.

"Hmm. Zip me up?" Her eyes grow comically large before she nods her head quickly while muttering frantic apologies and hurries to complete my zipper. I'm going to ignore the fact that I'm on fire where her fingers ghosted millimeters above my skin, causing every hair on my body to stand on end and my lungs to forget how to aspirate properly.

"Thank you. Now, shall we? Everyone's expecting me."

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**A/N: Rachel's solo is "Be Here Now" by Ray LaMontagne.**


	9. Chapter 9: Hello Stranger

**A/N: Quinn's iPod was playing Persuasion by Sucré in the last chapter. Thanks for reading!**

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MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Ch. 9: Hello, Stranger

**Santana**: I can't believe you missed the most awkward showdown on Earth. Q pretty much showed up from the freakin' dead and stalked out behind Berry with a deer in the headlights look, while Rachel looked completely unphased by the fact that she flew all the way from Argentina to see her show. You'd at least think that hoe would have the common sense to warn me she was coming – then she could have sat with us.

I'm convinced Q was possessed when she greeted Rachel's dads with hugs and kisses on both cheeks like they were bffs or something. Rachel seemed to think so, too. Where the hell did the quiet shy person around parents go? But the drama was all around Christine and Quinn. It was the first time they met. I swear I could hear that old timey Spaghetti Western music play as they laid eyes on each other. You know, the tune from The Good, The Bad, The Ugly. Anyway, the old Quinn would have been viciously passive aggressive or stared daggers into her heart, but this new Quinn must be a genius. She killed her with kindness and even gave her a kiss on the cheek. I don't know what her angle is yet, but I'm sure it'll reveal itself in time. Q's always lived by the motto of keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Christine, on the other hand, didn't know what to do with herself. She looked back and forth between Rachel and Quinn, obviously taken by surprise by Q's presence, for some sort of guidance. In the end, she invited Q to come to 1202 with us. And Rach? Well, she looked like a pimp having two sexy ladies on her side who were both giving her googly eyes.

What the heck? No blood? Not even a slap? I've seen better cat fights at Sally's than this.

**Christine**: Fuck the friend zone. Hearing she was beautiful didn't prepare me for how stunningly gorgeous she actually is. Rachel has good taste, that's for certain. I was completely blindsided by Quinn's appearance and I really wish Rachel would have warned me. Now I had never met the girl or even seen a picture of her before, but I had heard enough, so when Rachel strolled out from her dressing room with a gorgeous blonde with smoky hazel eyes in tow, I just knew she was my competition.

She went straight to the Berry men and hugged and kissed them both so warmly, I knew that I'd be working uphill against their loving familiarity with this girl. I'm sure they've all spent plenty of time together before. Rachel had this look on her face that I've never seen before. If I were to try to describe it, and I'm usually pretty good with words so give me a sec, I'd say she looked like a child who just smelled fresh baking cookies while playing with their favorite toy in the living room. Does that even make sense to you? I mean, she looked fucking happy in a way I've never seen before – kind of like the relief you get once you finally get a quick moment alone and pull out an ungodly uncomfortable wedgie you've been trying to hide. Relief. Satisfaction. Happiness. Calm.

And it _killed_ me.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with that? And the worst of it was that she was actually really nice to me. I felt obligated to invite her out with us. I mean, the last thing I wanted was for Rachel to think I was acting all weird and jealous and clingy. Was I happy that she accepted? No. Was I upset that it was because her and Rachel were going to have a "confidential colloquy?" Hell yes.

I tried to keep a smile on my face. And the weird thing is that I don't really know why I felt so threatened because Rachel and I aren't anything, and not for want of trying. Who am I kidding? _Of course_ I should have felt threatened. Things were just starting to gather steam with Rachel and I, and I seriously thought tonight would have cemented… well… something. But now that this stupidly beautiful girl who broke her heart flew all the way from Argentina to surprise her on opening night just like she promised she would before said heartbreak, well, it's obvious she's trying to win her back.

In every game there is a loser. That loser will not be me. Bellefleur's do not simply lose. Fuck the friend zone. If Fabray thinks she can win Rachel back at the drop of a dime, she has another thing coming. We'll let Rachel decide what she truly wants: someone who tormented her and broke her heart over and over again in high school only to leave her and break her again in college, or me, the always-there childless non-judgmental Jewish and clearly out friend.

**Brittany**: This club is sooooooooo cool. I now know what I want to do with my life. I want to teach at a dance studio in New York by day and dance in one of these lit up cages at night. I can't believe Rachel has friends that can get minors into 21 and up clubs like nothing, but I'm not complaining.

Ok, so what have you missed? Well, Quinn's back, but I'm sure you already knew that. Rachel's dads insisted she stay at Rach's, so they took her bag back to Rachel's for her along with Rachel's stuff. Let's see, what else? Oh, everyone's had a few drinks already so we're all becoming really great dancers. Christine has been staring at the girls' restroom for a really long time while Rach and Quinn talk. She's walked pretty close to the door a few times and then walked away. At first, Rach and Q were talking – well not so much as talking but being awkwardly cute and making small talk – in the booth and then decided to go to the restroom for what I can only assume was some quiet or to make out. I really hope they work things out because I don't like seeing either of them sad.

They've been in there a while. I'd guess about 20 minutes, but I can't be sure because I've been dancing the whole time, so maybe they are making out! San's really missed me. Should I save a dance for you? Mike would really love this place! I gotta tell him about it!

**Christine**: Finally! I think I see them coming out of the restroom and it looks as if their clothes are still on the way they were when they went in, so that's a good sign. Rachel's coming right at me!

"Eli!"

"Rach!" I yell back to make sure I've been heard.

"I really wish it wasn't so loud out here. This volume could certainly cause deafness."

"What?" I yell into her ear closely.

Rachel leans into my left ear to make sure I hear her clearly. "Never mind! Listen, thanks for tonight! This place is awesome! But I think Quinn and I are going to go home! We have a lot to talk about!"

"What? You're leaving? But you just got here!" I say as I lean into her left ear.

"I know! Everyone's having such a good time! I don't want to bother them! You should stay and have fun!" She yells back.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yeah! Thanks for everything! You have no idea how much I appreciate you! You've been so great!"

_What do I say to that?_ _Give her a smile, stupid._

"Enjoy yourself and have a great night, Eli!" She says as she turns her head to kiss my cheek. Next thing I know, she's waving goodbye to everyone, while Quinn gives Santana and Brittany a hug goodbye.

_Grrr_. Why couldn't she have stayed in Santana and Brittany's hotel room? Why does she have to stay at Rachel's?

"You're welcome!" I shout out to no one.

**Santana**: Poor Christine. Look's like Rachel's shacking up with Quinn and it's about goddamn time. I bet Berry's a freak in bed. I'll have to ask Q about it tomorrow. I'm just glad she didn't ask to stay with me and Britts because there's no way in hell I would have given up my long overdue sexy times for her sorry ass. Bitch can get her own hotel.

Bow-chicka-bow-wow!

**Sara**: It's about time that girl shows her face. Look, I'm not saying anything, I'm just saying that tonight I'll definitely be staying at Joe's place. The last thing I need to be is a cockblock… or, that term probably doesn't apply here… maybe clitblock? Anywho, Rach's done it plenty of times for me. It's about time I scratch her back, too, not that I doubt there'll be plenty of _scratching_ going on tonight, if you catch my drift, and I think you do.

**Quinn**: I find myself again sharing a yellow taxi with Rach back to her place, but the unspoken tension between us is electrostatic. I've changed in these short few months; that's undeniable. It's undeniable that I'm gay. It's undeniable that I was a bitch to her for so long because I tried in vain to repress any and all gay tendencies. And it's equally and most blatantly undeniable that I have feelings for this gorgeous she-creature, this angel, this… Rachel… sitting right next to me.

What's unclear is how she feels about me. I've tried desperately to stare out the window and wait out our showdown until we reach her place, but it's useless.

Resistance is futile.

My eyes are pulled to her frame like a powerful magnet. She's gnawing on her lip, likely running through every possible scenario in her head because that's how Rachel Berry works. While she worries, I can't help but observe the way her right eyebrow furrows ever so slightly, too. Ribbons of fluorescent orange pass over us as the street lights attempt to shine light on our situation and illuminate the way.

Her neck. I'm obsessed with it. The way it moves when she hums or when she belts out a high note. Watching her skin move over her trained muscles is so fluid and organic and altogether beautiful. I imagine it's succulent, that it's her sensitive spot. I imagine what it would be like to be sucking just below her ear and feeling the vibrations from her moans tickle my lips. She would look so sexy gasping for breath, swallowing thickly as her body becomes overwhelmed with sexual bliss. I'm pretty sure I'm staring at her pretty intensely, and she's doing her damnedest to keep her eyes trained straight ahead.

Does that make me a creeper? I think Rachel would call me an intense admirer – that doesn't sound so bad. Oh, I see that she missed a spot of that brown dirt-like makeup from the show just under her jaw. What I wouldn't give to just lick it off her and-

"$15.60," the cabby says flatly as we pull up to Rachel's apartment. Way to be a buzz kill.

**Rachel**: …

I'm sorry. I'm usually more loquacious, but I'm utterly out of sorts. Quinn is here. She came to see me, but has yet to explain herself. She's different. _Very_ different. And I'm not really sure what to think of _this_ Quinn, let alone how to react to her. The way she acted with my dads with her warm hugs and kisses on the cheek to everyone, it was just so un-Fabray like.

I can feel her looking at me, literally feel it. The hairs all over me are standing on end under her gaze. I feel like a specimen on display and she's the microscope.

_Damnit!_

Why must Quinn Fabray always have that effect over me? How does she manage to make me feel like every part of me needs to be inspected for quality control? _She's_ the one that fucked up here. _She_ should be the one to be scrutinized tonight. I _refuse_ to break and give her the satisfaction of seeing me falter under her watch. No, I will be strong.

When we were in the restroom, I tried to start a dialogue, but all we could manage were a few awkward glances and small talk about the show. There were so many people coming in and out, it didn't feel like the right place to talk about this, but is there ever a right place, a right time, to talk about this? She told me I was beautiful. Not that I _looked_ beautiful or that I _sounded_ beautifully, but that I was beautiful.

"You're beautiful, Rachel."

And with those words, I've never felt so exposed, so _naked_, before in my life. Quinn Fabray is the only person who can do this to me and I absolutely positively hate it and love it in equal parts.

Fuck, I have no idea what I'm going to say to her, but I know I don't have much time to say it. Why couldn't she have just stayed in Argentina and not come looking like a freaking model?

I'm sure I sound bipolar to you, so I'm just going to think a little bit more before we get back to my place. It's just around the corn-

"$15.60."

Well, so much for thinking it over.

**Hiram**: My little girl was so wonderful, stupendous, and magnificent tonight, wasn't she? Oh, I could just go on and on. I tell you, I had burst into tears at least 3 times by the intermission. She's _that_ good, but I may be slightly biased. Can you blame me? Well I blame it on Leroy. It's his fault that he thought to enter her into her first singing contest at 8 months old. He got this ball rolling, therefore it's his fault.

I'm sorry, I've just never been as proud of Rachel as I am now. No, I said I wasn't going to cry again… can we please change the subject?

Okay. That Quinn Fabray is something isn't she? Over the summer, we knew she had become our little girl's best friend, but she has really metamorphosed into a charming young lady since we saw her last. I hear she's been living in Argentina right now. She came up just to see my little star. That's so sweet of her. Imagine that, leave it to the South Americans to break her from her rigid Puritan upbringing. Good for her! I'd love to get some Argentinian air in my lungs. It certainly did Madonna some good, but I digress. Rachel seemed really happy to see her and the rest of her friends.

Her roommate is a little something, but Christine, Quinn 2.0 as Leroy refers to her – but only with me of course, is certainly a looker. She's such a nice girl and her mother made _the _best roast, bar none to my Bubbe's. I could not be more ecstatic to see that Rachel has made so many friends. Now if only she would tell us who the jerk was that broke her heart right before the holidays. She had called trying to give us some contrived excuse about an emergency rehearsal, but broke down in tears halfway through her explanation. What were we to think? Of course there was no rehearsal. Poor thing sounded so crushed I wanted to fly to New York right then and there, but I had to remember that she's faced this sort of thing with Finn before and our little girl's a trooper. So we let her settle it out like an adult on her own. That didn't stop her from venting to us every now and then, though. "I was stood up. I really thought we had some amazing happening between us." I don't know who this character is, but I definitely have a few choice words to tell this young man, that's for certain. His loss for hurting my little girl. Good thing my trooper has a thick skin because she seems to have shrugged it off and moved on.

I'm sorry, I hear my hubby calling me. We're hitting the hay early today because we have an action packed day tomorrow in the city. I doubt the novelty of being a tourist will ever wear off for us.

**Quinn**: Her place is exactly as I remembered it, and why wouldn't it be? The smell of cinnamon permeates the air, likely from the pink and red pine cones sitting on her coffee table. Rachel's always been so attentive to the holidays. I go to sit on the couch and pick one up to see if my suspicions are correct. Yup, cinnamon pine cones alright.

"Quinn, can I get you something to drink?" Rachel asks politely.

"No thanks. My body's so nervous, I don't think adding anything to it would be a good idea right now," I reply honestly.

"Ok then, let me change really quickly and then we'll talk about the giant elephant in the room."

Damn. Confident Rachel is a hot Rachel. I wring my hands together and notice that my cuticles are looking a little dry. Jet lag hasn't kicked in quite yet, even though the time zones aren't too different, but I know it's coming tomorrow. Again, my eyes are pulled toward Rachel's direction. She closed the door behind her, but not completely. I have about a 2 inch view into her room and I noticed that she's changed her bedspread. Instead of the happy yellow patterned one she had before, a solid charcoal gray one has replac-

_Good G-d. Holy Mother._

She walked passed the door in pj pants. _Only_ pj pants. Completely _topless_. _Shit. _What's breathing? How I think still? Wh-? _So_ pretty. Boobs. And then. Brrrrrrrr-

"Quinn, are you ok?"

Huh? What? Where? Me?

"Quinn? You look flushed. Are you feeling well?"

_Move your head._

"Water…. please. I need water."

Oh water has never tasted so good.

"All better?"

"Mmhmm. Thanks. I don't know what happened to me all of a sudden," I rush out.

She shrugs her shoulders in response and instantly I know that this is a Rachel Berry that I'm not familiar with, a more laid back Rachel Berry. She didn't offer me any medical explanation about throat constriction at all.

"I'm going to start talking now. I have questions, which I'm sure you can understand. All I ask is complete 100% honesty from you, Quinn. Can you handle that?"

"Yes, of course. Go ahead."

Why do I feel like I'm being led to the guillotine?

**Brittany**: Do you think they're doing it right now? I bet they are. I'm so proud of them!

"Brittany, come here. I've missed you." San's so sweet. Gotta go!

**Quinn**: "I felt like a fool. I thought, wow, Quinn Fabray has figured out how to make me feel like I've just been slushied all over again without a drop of that sticky ice mixture or even being present."

The anger and resentment in her voice was thick and certainly not lost on me.

"And for that, I'm so sorry from the bottom of my soul. I swore to myself that I'd never make you feel that way ever again and not only did I let you down, but also myself. Please please please know that that was never my intention, Rach. Truly, honestly, what I did, I did for us – for you," I begin to explain.

"I'm sure you did, but it shouldn't matter, should it? I gave you the option not to come. I blame myself for convincing myself that there was something between us. Some unspoken… romantic thing, and that you were going to come running into my arms and we were going to sail off into the sunset."

"You- y- umm- you weren't wrong," I admit.

**Rachel**: I wasn't wrong? I wasn't _wrong_? Well if I wasn't wrong, why did nothing go right? What the actual fuck!

**Christine**: Drinking a bottle of wine by yourself isn't tacky, is it? Well, who cares? Not me, that's who. Back to the damn friend zone where I belong. Know your place, damnit!

**Quinn**: "You were trying to save me from yourself because you knew, with all of your new _psychic_ capabilities, that you would ruin any possible relationship that may or may not have happened. So instead of trying us out, you thought you'd cut your losses and leave me sitting in a coffee shop with a lone rose all alone without so much as a text message to say you weren't coming. And this was all done for my own good? Is that what you're saying, in a nutshell to me, Quinn?"

"Well, that's not how I explained it. I mean, yeah, in it's simplest form."

"'Yeah?' That answer has so much damned _conviction_ in it. You sound like Finn for crying out loud!"

_Ouch_.

"Seriously, Rachel? That's a low blow, even for you. I get that you're upset and you have every right to be, but I'm trying to have an adult conversation with you. Can you at least keep any jabs above the belt?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. That was too harsh."

"I was a coward and I know that. I own it. I lived in it. I reveled in it. I swam and drowned in my cowardice. Don't think that I didn't want to turn around and run into that coffee shop and kiss you senselessly with every fucking fiber of my fucking body, but I didn't because I really thought I was making the second hardest selfless decision I've ever made in my life. Beth, being the first."

"Selfless?"

"Yes, selfless. Our relationship history, as friends, has been tumultuous at best and incredibly abusive and dysfunctional at worst. Every relationship needs to be built on a solid foundation because without it, it will crack and crumble at the slightest tremor or adversity it faces. I am attracted to you, was attracted to you, in the worst and best way ever since freshman year of high school. But if you put all of my actions towards you into numbers and figures, statistically the odds are against us 40 to 1. Now, I'm not a betting person, but even I know that those odds aren't good and I couldn't do that to you… again.

"I've torn you down and hurt you so many times before, I refuse, _re-fuse_ to do it again. I know that as friends, at least, I won't be able to break your heart and will be the one to be there if someone ever does or if you ever want to have a good laugh and smile because we simply enjoy each other's company. I love you too much to expose you to myself. I should have called you, but the coward in me ran, and that's exactly what I would do if we were in a relationship, Rach. I've cried a river, hell, an ocean, over this – over you, and I hope that you can forgive me and eventually, call me a friend again."

She sat still analyzing everything I just said. "And that's where you're wrong isn't it? My best friend _did_ break my heart. You should have called me. You should have put me out of my misery." She looked down as large tear drops splashed on the hard wood between her feet. "Statistics aren't always right, but if you wouldn't take a chance on me, why should I take a chance on you? Tell me why?"

I can literally hear my heart breaking. What I feared the most is coming true.

"You can stay on the couch if you want," she said sadly.

Why the hell did I fly across the world to hear these words? Oh right, because I make the worst choices ever.

"And Quinn, thanks for coming to my show," she said before she turned her back and closed her bedroom door behind her. The metal click of her door lock shutting this discussion indefinitely.


	10. Chapter 10: Free Falling

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! I see that that last chapter resonated with many of you. I hope this one does as well. Sorry for the long length, but I wrote this in an airport on my phone.**

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**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

**Chapter 10: Free Falling**

**Quinn**: Dean's List. Not bad for my first year at Yale, huh? This school year has been a very didactic one for me. I've come to realize a lot of things about myself. I have to thank my lucky stars for being given the opportunity to study abroad in Argentina because had I not, who knows where the heck I'd be.

I've come to terms with my sexuality, I declared a major - psychology, I nurtured a taste for red wine, which of course is good for your heart, and I've mended my relationship with Rachel. We're still so delicate, but I know this summer will be good for us.

Brit, San, Rachel, and I are all meeting up in New York this summer for a weekend to catch up and have fun. It'll be the first time since last summer that the four of us have had some real friend-bonding time, considering that I left as quickly as I came when I was there last in February. I hope Rachel and I aren't awkward. Do you think enough time has passed? I do.

And besides, things left off pretty clearly to me. After our conversation on the couch the night of her show, we didn't speak much. I had lunch with San and Brit and then walked around and saw some of the sites on my own. I told Rach I didn't want to ruin her chi as she prepared for the next show. When I left the following day, she walked me outside of her apartment. Catching a taxi would have been no problem and something I could handle on my own undoubtedly, but subtlety has never been on Rachel Berry's resume of special talents. I knew we were going to have another intense conversation, but it never came. She stood there fidgeting with her hands while staring me in the eyes.

"Will we be ok?"

The uncertainty in her voice nearly broke my heart all over again. I needed to be strong for her, even if the answer to her question had been plaguing my mind as well.

"Yes, I think so - no - I _know_ so."

That made her smile and I knew it was the right thing to say. Now all I had to do was hope that I didn't just lie to the keeper of my heart.

"So... friends then? We're friends again?" she asked hopefully.

"We never stopped," I answered with a half truth. If I was being honest with myself, we stopped being friends midway through last summer and became something more than that. Friends plus? Friends with emotional benefits? I'm not exactly sure what I'd classify us as, but we haven't been platonic friends for a while.

But that's neither here nor there now. Friends. That's what we _currently_ are.

I'm excited to be back in the States. Don't get me wrong, I loved Argentina and it was a great place to allow myself to wonder about as a vagabond, but it's not home. Like I said, I'm so looking forward to this friends' weekend!

**Santana**: This weekend is going to rock my face off. My Brits is the shit and got a scholarship to a dance school in New York. It's a small company that focuses on hip-hop and have you _seen_ my girl's moves? Enough said. I always knew she could do whatever she set her mind to.

Part of our weekend is going to be to find B a place to stay where I won't have to worry about her being mugged or something. I know if Berry can make it, Brit can, too, but you can never be too cautious. There are some bad people out there in this world.

Rach promised that it'd be just the four of us this weekend. Not that Christine's not cool and all, but I needs my girl time every once and a while and being on the fucking other side of the country from everyone else doesn't make that easy.

Oh. You didn't know? Yeah well, I'll let her tell you all about that drama. I will say that they seem to be doing alright, but not good by Berry's track record. Ok, that's all I'm gonna say. I already said too much. I'm not the _metiche_ one in this group. Go talk to Mercedes.

**Mercedes**: Don't look at me. I don't know anything... yet. Ask Kurt.

**Rachel**: What are they telling you? You know, I never thought Santana to be a gossip. At any rate, Eli and I are doing just fine and she completely understands and supports our girls' weekend without significant others. Well, Santana and Brittany don't count like that because they're our friends apart as well as together, too.

If you must know, we began officially dating on February 17 and we have been happy and satisfied for a little over 3 months. She's actually going to be out of town for the same weekend while she participates in her family's annual sailing gathering on the Cape. I would have loved to have joined her, but one must keep their commitments.

**Santana**: Satisfied? Does that mean Berry's been getting it in since her show? Oh that's presh. I'm definitely going to have to get the dirt.

**Brittany**: Sexy times for Rach! You go girl!

**Rachel**: Oh for Pete's sake that's not what I meant. Pervs.

**Santana**: So wanky.

**Christine**: I _would_ say that I'd be worried about Quinn and Rach spending alone time together this weekend, but I have it on good authority that I won't have to be concerned about her anymore. 'Bout fucking time, too. I don't like sharing my things.

Now – Rachel and I have been simply marvelous. My mom was through the roof, especially after my parents came to a show and witnessed her talents in person. I swear she can't go an hour without dropping wedding hints these days. I mean – I'm not even going to go there. While Leroy and Hiram seemed slightly surprised at first, Hiram much more so than Leroy, they couldn't be more supportive and pleasant.

Did Rachel forget to mention the good news? Tsk, she's so modest. Some of the major donors and producers of some of the hottest Broadway shows on the scene were in the audience of The Golden Grove and absolutely loved her. They fucking loved her! Now of course she wasn't offered any roles right off the bat, but she was personally asked to audition for some of the biggest upcoming off-Broadway shows that open next season. That's a pretty big ass deal especially considering she's only 19. Most people have to kill to even get noticed, but it would have been impossible for them to have missed her. She stole the show. Hell, she always got the loudest and longest ovation during the curtain call. My girl's a star and what a sexy star at that. My little minx.

**Leroy**: My little Buttons is something else, isn't she. We always knew she was destined for greatness. It was an inevitability. Now what I didn't see coming was her dating Christine. She had been all about Quinn for so long, I was caught off guard. She didn't have to tell me, but a father knows his daughter, and it was as clear as crystal that Rachel and Quinn had mutual feelings for each other. Now during Christmas I had half a mind to drive over to the Fabray house and give that girl a tongue lashing for hurting my Buttons, but when I saw her at Rachel's opening night, I figured they had buried the hatchet. Rachel looked through the moon and I couldn't stay mad at the girl who so obviously gave rainbow colored lights to Rachel's stage of life. So you can imagine my surprise when I hear that she's dating the other blonde!

I'm not one to judge nor stop my little girl from being happy. Of course there's a line that has to be drawn... ahem, Finn, but she says she's happy and that's all I can ask for.

**Rachel**: The girls are all meeting for coffee to start off our weekend. Per usual, I'm early but I didn't mind because the menu at this place was quite extensive – leave it to Quinn to pick a place with organic free trade coffees and teas – and I get to pick the best table in the house.

I'm wearing white shorts and a coral semi-sheer top with brown flat gladiator sandals. It's such a beautiful warm summer day, I can't wait to go out and experience it with my three favorite friends. Not to mention beautiful friends. No longer having to fear a random sneak slushy attack, I've finally been able to dress myself the way I've always wanted and I feel beautiful. I've also started to let my hair grow out. This is the first time I've experimented with a fishtail braid, so I hope it looks ok.

My coffee seems to be quite the production, I've never seen coffee be poured through so many contraptions before finding its way into my cup. And then it-

_Woah_.

Just when I feel confident in myself, I see girls like that. This gorgeous girl, woman, just breezed into the shop wearing a mint green maxi dress hugging her in just the right ways to show off her amazing body. Her beautiful dark brown hair fades to lighter shade of browns and oranges in big loose waves topped off with a very expensive looking pair of sunglasses and gold bangle bracelets. Is she even a real person?

"Berry berry gumdrops!"

I hope I wasn't caught gaping.

"Brittany! Santana! It's so wonderful to see you!" I say as Brittany wraps me in one of her awesomely tight hugs from beside.

"Lookin' good, Berry. _Real_ good," Santana says eyeing me up and down obviously.

"Keep dreaming, Lopez."

Santana throws her head back in a laugh, "That's right, you only dig blondes. Maybe I should reconsider Brit's idea about inviting you to join us someday."

"SANTANA!" Oh my goodness! Can you believe her? I can't tell if she's laughing because that's the reaction she wanted or because it's true.

"Hey Rach," a beautiful mellow voice says with a smile behind me. And just like that, my look of horror is replaced by another. Quinn Fabray should be a lion tamer because she can stop me in my tracks regardless of the situation with just her mouth. She can tame the wildest of beasts

"Quinn," I say back. It's all I can manage as I take in her relaxed style and mannerisms. "You look- you look _so_ good."

That's safe, right? That's what friends say. Right? Back me up here.

"You look absolutely luminous," she says candidly as if it were an everyday kind of compliment to pay a person.

"I- uhh- I got us a table over here," I blubber out. Smooth. So smooth. Oh hey, I'm holding an incredibly hot cup of coffee in my hands! Sitting would be a good thing right about now.

"I'll go get us something to drink, babe," Brittany says lovingly to the once big bad scary Latina sitting next to me with a kiss on her shoulder. Gah, Brittany turns her into a puddle of mush instantly. It's ironic, really.

Breathe. You have at least an arms distance between yourself and Quinn. Bring your cup up to your mouth and sip.

Ow fuck! That's hot. Slowly. Drink slowly. Oh great, now she's laughing at me.

"Rachel Berry burned her mouth? This from the girl that drank 5 cups a day during finals? Are you that _excited_ to see us?" Quinn teases me openly – like friends do.

"It was much hotter than expected."

"That's what she said!" Santana mused.

"Remind me why I agreed to this friends' weekend?" I ask out loud.

"Relax we're only teasing you, sweetie," Quinn says lovingly.

"Napkin! Napkin!" I plead as I choke on my coffee because Quinn held my hand just now. Good grief I'm going to die this weekend at this rate.

I point at my throat and mouth, "Wrong way."

"Hermosa! There you are," says the girl in the maxi dress as she squeezes Quinn by the shoulders and kisses her squarely on the lips.

_Ahh hell no! Who does this bitch think she is?_

**Santana**: Oh shit. Q didn't tell Rachel about Celia. Oh no, this cannot end well. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. I think she's about to go all Carrie on her ass, make the coffee cups explode, and burn her alive by sheer will power.

**Quinn**: Ummm, I may have left out one small detail.

"R- Ra- I, I didn't tell you? This is Celia-"

Oh G-d I can hear my heart beat pounding in my ears like a bass drum or cannon fire. Wipe your hands and finish your sentence, stupid.

"-my girlfriend."

"Ah, so _you're_ Rachel. I'm Celia, but you can call me Chelly – everyone else does," Chel says as she leans in and air kisses her cheek. "So nice to meet you."

Fuck me. I should have warned her. Damnit this is going to be awkward.

"Likewise. I didn't realize Quinn had a _girl_friend, but then again I've been so busy with school and preparing for auditions that we haven't really been the best pen pals this past semester," Rachel replies with a completely unsubtle haughtiness.

"That's too bad, but that's what this weekend is for, right? Excuse me, I'm going to grab our drinks. ¿_Té de mate con miel, correcto mi amor_?" Chel asks me.

"_No. Quisiera un café Americano. Gracias, Chel_," I answer her normally.

"Woah Q! I am beyond impressed right now. I'm fucking speechless actually," Santana says. I'll take that as a compliment.

"Well I did live in a country that only speaks Spanish for about 4 months. You're bound to pick up something," I offer.

"So you speak Spanish now?" Rachel asks me.

Thank the lord she didn't ask me about the fact that I now have a girlfriend.

"I'm conversational or intermediate at best, but I'm not fluent by any means."

"Spanish is so sexy, right Rach?" Brittany asks while wiggling her eyebrows at San.

"I've always thought so," Rachel says just as she sips her coffee.

Did she really just say that? Why didn't I learn Spanish sooner? Fucking Schuester! How did I not know this? Not that it matters now, but it could have back then.

"Here babe. Brad threw in this gluten free pumpkin loaf. He's such a sweetheart," Chel says as she places my tea and free pastry before me.

"Thank you," I say with a smile. I'm not going to kiss her or anything, that'll only make things between Rach and I that much more awkward.

"Brad? You're on a first name basis with the barista already?" Santana asks in disbelief.

"Oh no. I work here. I know this is a girls' only weekend, and I swear I'm not going to intrude, I just suggested this place to Quinn because I knew it'd be right up her alley. I'm actually about to run off to a shoot."

"A shoot? Hold the phone. What are you, a photographer or something?" Santana continues grilling.

Chel doesn't falter, though. This girl's tough. People like Santana are comfortable for her, that's practically her entire family.

"Ok, I see you girls have a _lot_ of catching up to do and I wouldn't take that opportunity away from Quinnie here, but I'll give you the basics. I was a student at NYU studying fashion design, but I dropped out to pursue modeling full time and I work here on the side to have spending money. My family's from Argentina, but I was born here. And I'll let Q fill you in on the rest because I really do have to run. It was so great to finally get to meet you all and put faces to names. You girls have fun this weekend," Chel says as she begins to stand up and grab her purse. "Bye nena, call me later," she says as she kisses me chastely goodbye, and quickly pulls me in for another deeper kiss.

"So good," she says with a smirk as she walks away swaying her perfectly sculpted ass.

"Nena? Dang Q, this girl's into you like woah," Santana states the obvious.

Why I can't help but feel like I've just released a dump truck load of slushy on Rachel?

**Rachel**: Now everything makes complete sense. I have never been anywhere near the realm of good enough for Quinn Fabray. I can't even hold a candle to that girl. Did you see her ass? I swear that thing could cut marble, and just like that, all of life's questions have been answered. This weekend is going to suck asshole.

**Quinn**: In my defense, I didn't know Chel was going to come. She knew we were going to have a girls' weekend and that girlfriends weren't allowed, bar San and Brit, and she said she totally got it and would be super busy anyway.

She recommended we stop by her shop because she knows how much I love soy chai teas and stuff and that they would hook us up. I had told her I was going to meet the girls at Union and pick them up to go to coffee where we would meet up with Rach. Well, as I'm running out the door of her place to meet Brit and San, she jumps into my cab and says she could use a little pick me up before her shoot.

What was I supposed to do? Kick her out of my cab? That'd be rude! So she came with. There was really nothing I could have done about it.

**Santana**: "Ladies, ladies, ladies. There is just sooo much we need to catch up on, like the big gay rainbow pooping unicorn in the room-"

"Where?" Brit interrupts me suddenly looking around like she's a part of the Scooby-Doo gang.

"Figure of speech, babe. But it's really much too soon to talk about that. So, ahem, Rach, how're your auditions coming?"

Leave it to me to have to start the small talk and conversations after Berry just found out by physical sight and contact no less that Q's been waving her rainbow flag for a little Latin hottie, or over Q's new laid back flirtatious style, which, don't get me wrong, totally fits her way better and I know she won't have any problems finding a lady. I mean seriously, who else could get it done besides Santana Lopez? Bitches get shit done. End of discussion.

"They've actually been pretty taxing. If I wasn't in class or practicing for my lessons or the show, then I was working on my rep for the next auditions. I've moved my schedule to fit in another dance class – hip hop – and I think they've been going well. I've got two call backs so far on Tuesday and Thursday morning. My next prelim audition is next Sunday and that's the one I'm crossing my fingers for the most."

"That's bad ass, Berry. This would be kind of a big deal, right?" I ask because I don't really know shit about this stuff.

Rachel laughs softly at me and shows a glimpse of a new shy modest side. "Yeah, it would be a pretty big deal. I'm actually not even sure if I would finish with school if I actually got the part."

"What? No you can't do that! You have to finish, Rach," Quinn interjects adamantly.

"I'm sorry, Quinn, but the last time I checked I don't _have_ to do _anything_ you say. While I appreciate your concern, I'll have to ask you to keep your opinions to yourself on this matter."

Damn! Berry just bitch slapped Q in the face with her words and it looks like it stings. Q's staring at her with a pained shocked look on her face as Rachel looks down into her coffee cup and idly stirs its contents around.

"Yeah, so like I said, I'm not really sure what life has ahead of me in the next few months or so," Rachel finishes.

"Well, cool. Good luck!" That's it. That's all I got. Should I acknowledge that verbal smack down? She does kind of have a point. Her life isn't Quinn's to decide.

Egh. I hate being in the middle. Let's try a different approach.

"So are we all ready to tackle that rock wall?"

**Quinn**: I really don't understand why we're paired up this way. Rachel and I are climbing together as Brit and San hold the ropes. This is a sure fired recipe for disaster. We're climbing side by side, but sometimes I fall a little behind her because who knew Rachel Berry was part monkey? Maybe it was all that practice from climbing Finnpotent all the time.

Ew. I just gave myself a really gross visual.

And now I have a really _nice_ visual of Rachel's... perfectly fitting white shorts accentuating her assets by the harness that hugs her hips and rear and a clear view of her entire upper body including her sexy black lace bra as her already sheer top hangs open when she makes a long grab for her next step. Rachel's seriously been working out because her abs are looking _so_ good right now.

"Quit drooling!"

Fucking Santana.

"You hanging in there Rach? Go for the one on your right at your 2 o'clock," I suggest having a slightly better vantage point from below her.

"I'm doing just fine, Quinn and thank you for the suggestion but I was already going to grab that one. I am simply debating the best placement for my feet before I make my reach."

"Just looking out for you. You know I'd never want to see you get hurt."

I'm not exactly only talking about rock wall climbing right now. I hope she knows that. Does she know I'm always thinking steps ahead to make sure she doesn't have to go through pain and suffering?

"Once again, not your responsibility, Quinn. As a friend I understand you care about my well being, but I have to call bullshit on that one, our past considering. The only one you should be looking out for is your _girl_friend."

And there it is. It's bothering her, of course it is. Damnit. I should have warned her and told her about her first. I'm such an asshole.

"Rachel, that's not fair. You have Christine and I was-"

"You were nothing, Quinn. Nothing. Don't finish that sentence. _We_ were nothing and left it at that. You're an adult and you can make your own decisions and while some may be harder for me to accept, that does not lessen your entitlement to make them," she says as she swings over 3 grips and pulls herself up completely by her arms alone. "What I'm trying to say is that I hope you're happy and that she treats you well, but please don't think that we can continue to act as we were prior to the winter break because neither of us has that kind of claim over the other."

Somehow the top feels infinitely farther away and I'm plummeting. That's probably because I let go of the wall and I'm free falling as Rachel stands triumphantly at the top.

"I got you Q," Santana says as she lowers my body to the ground.

**Brittany**: Dinner time at Rachel's has always been one of my favorite things because she's such a good cook. Quinn brought over two bottles of red wine to go with our dinner because she pretty much drinks a glass of red wine a day now.

"You're not becoming an alcoholic on us now, are you Q," Santana asks. I think she's only half joking because I know she likes to look out for Quinn a lot.

"Drinking a glass of red wine with dinner hardly qualifies a person as an alcoholic, so no. I actually learned to like it in Argentina. We'd drink it all the time and sometimes they even add Coca-Cola to it. It was a weird taste that wasn't too bad, but wasn't my favorite, either."

"Sounds pretty nasty," Rachel chimes in from the kitchen.

"Booze is booze. Let's open this bitch up!" My Sanny would never tell anyone she was actually a closet wine-o.

"Now's as good a time as any. I just popped the lasagna into the oven so we have about 45 minutes. Let me grab some wine glasses."

Apparently Rachel likes wine, too. Tonight's going to be fun!

**Santana**: "Alright I've been dying to ask all night so spill it. How'd you meet your Latin lover, Q? And don't gross me out with any graphic details of your lard ass all over her."

This is some strong good wine! Yum! Maybe one full glass will be enough for me for tonight. Guess who's got two thumbs and is getting some tonight? This lady right here!

"Ok ok ok. Well, we actually met on my plane ride home from New York in February," she begins to explain after a long sip of wine.

"I need to check on the lasagna!" Rachel announces.

Liar. She just doesn't want us to see her reaction to this story. She checked the damn thing 3 minutes ago and said it was fine for another 30.

"Well, I saw her as I was waiting at my gate to go back to Buenos Aires, but I didn't really think anything of it. I boarded before she did and as fate would have it, she was assigned to the seat at the end of my row. So there I was, looking out the window, and the next thing I know I hear hard short breaths. The poor thing was starting to hyperventilate and no one was sitting between us! I asked her if she was ok and she told me she has flight anxiety. I told her I could relate and ended up talking to her about random things in hopes to distract her enough from the flight itself. She calmed down considerably and after that, we spent a lot of our 10 hour flight getting to know one another. When we landed, we exchanged information so that I could experience BA the way a true Argentine would - aside from the touristy experience I had with my school or rated PG version with my host family. And well, we just kind of clicked."

That sounds almost too easy or too predictable. Like something out of a movie. That stuff doesn't happen in real life, does it?

"So then you hit it and didn't quit it? Damn you work fast, Q."

"What? No, of course not. I mean, we may have kissed, but I didn't hook up. Chel was actually there to visit her family and work on an ad campaign in Buenos Aires for about a month. Then she left back to New York and I now have a reason to visit the city more often."

The crashing of a wine glass on the kitchen floor scared the shit out of all of us as Rachel shouted, "Shit shit! Fuck, I'll clean that up."

"Do you need help," Q asks.

"No! I got it!"

"Well now you have 3 1/2 reasons to come visit: Chel, Rachel, and me and maybe Sanny," Brit adds excitedly. "Yay! It's going to be so fun seeing you around, Quinn!"

**Rachel**: Please please _please_ tell me you heard that. She has a reason to visit? She's always had a god damn reason to visit New York! I can't even- I can't even handle her right now. I may have dropped my wine glass but she, and I don't even know how this is still possible right now, dropped my heart and punted it through a goal post. Who _says_ such careless things like that around someone who they share a loose past with that never really got truly resolved? And she says she doesn't try to hurt me. We must have a different definition or understanding of the concept.

"Rachel are you ok?" she fucking asks me as I throw away the last bits of swept up glass. Ok about what? What does her question cover exactly?

"What about?"

"Th- the glass, of course. Did you cut yourself? Let me see."

"You got me where no one can see," I mutter under my breath.

"What's that?" She asks as she reaches for my hand to inspect but I can't let her touch me right now. I feel like a cracked egg about to break into a million pieces.

"Nothing. I'm fine. 'Tis only a flesh wound. Lasagna's ready. Grab some plates, will you?"

"Sure."

**Quinn**: Rachel has always been an amazing cook and today was no exception. I've missed her cooking and her company over dinner. It's comfortable, as if this is what eating dinner should really feel like.

"That lasagna was the bomb, Rach, but I think Brits and I are going to head over to our hostel now," Santana says as she clears up everyone's plates. "Should I stick them in the dishwasher?"

"No that's ok. I'll get them in the morning," Rachel and I answer simultaneously.

"You're staying," Rachel and Brittany both asked shocked.

"Well, if you don't mind, Rach. I can always go back to Chel's but I wanted to keep this a strict girls' weekend and thought that would be cheating."

And it does kind of feel like cheating, but on whom, I can't say. All I know is if I were to stay with Chel, then it'd be way harder for the four of us to get coordinated and actually spend time together and do stuff.

"Oh, well, ok, but I'm not completely prepared to have you sleep over. I don't have any clean sheets for the pull-out bed, so you can either sleep on the couch or on Sara's bed."

Sleeping in the same room as Rachel sounds like the worst idea my body has ever wanted to take so strongly.

"We'll figure it out," I say.

Is staying with Rachel, not even in her room but in the same apartment, a good idea? I've had a taste of her before and you know they say that taste and smell are some of our strongest senses that tie us to our most vivid memories. Oh my G-d do you hear me? I sound like Puck or what I imagine Hugh Hefner sounded like in his younger days. Maybe staying with Rach isn't such a good idea, but I need this so badly, such a raw emotion can't be wrong can it?

Hey, don't give me that look. As long as nothing happens, Chel doesn't need to know. It's not a lie, but rather an intentional omission. Besides, it's not like she owns me or anything.

**Rachel**: My head is a mess. Quinn is amaz- cool. Cool? Really, Rachel? Who am I kidding? Quinn is wonderful. As soon as I saw her, I remembered and felt with full force exactly how much I have missed her. But then she ruins it by kissing her stupid and beautiful girlfriend. _Girlfriend!_ Gay and taken. What the fuck is up with that? Who'd I piss off to deserve that one?

I swear my stomach plummeted to my toes the second I saw them kiss. I understand showing affection but did she really have to turn the dirty rusty pronged weapon in my chest so violently without warning?

But it doesn't matter because we agreed to be friends. And I have a girlfriend of my own. And she's great.

Yup, great. She really dotes on me and goes to great lengths to make sure I'm always happy. She's always there for me when I need her and I can depend on her, you know? I don't have to stay up for hours wondering how she feels about me or whether she's going to actually make good on her word and meet me for lunch. She lives here in the city and is accessible by taxi. She's beautiful, tall, blonde, has a great physique, and makes me laugh.

Oh, did I mention she's a skilled lover? Santana wasn't too far off actually. She gave me my first orgasm and I'm kind of hooked on them, now. Eli is my rock. She sends me reminder texts about the little things. Here's a for instance, she sent me a text today reminding me to bring a pair of socks in my purse for when we went rock wall climbing. We have each others iCal's schedules synced. She's very organized and that's something I admire in a partner. She's predictable and I like knowing what's going to happen and where I stand. It's comforting and safe.

With Eli, it's the little things about her that ultimately drew me in: the way she makes a curly cue at the top of her C when she signs her name; the way she neatly discards her gum; the way she looks me in the eye when we talk; or the way she insists we evenly trade who pays on dates.

Falling in like with someone isn't always a whirlwind romance meant for stories or movies. Real life isn't like that. Sometimes you sort of fall into things, and that's ok.

"Would you like another glass of wine, Rachel?"

I love the way she says my name. Love.

"I thought you'd never ask Ms. Fabray."

**Santana**: Make it quick. What do _I_ think about Q staying with Rach? I honestly don't even know. If I were either of their girlfriends I'd be worried, but I'm not so I say do whatever makes them happy.

**Quinn**: A drinking game sounds like the perfect way to ask each other things we don't have the guts to ask ordinarily. A part of me wants to know things about Rachel and Christine, but another part of me – the one that wonders about would could have been – would rather be kept in the dark. Ignorance is supposed to be bliss, but for me it's torture. My mind has a vivid imagination and cruelly creates an entire world of the various very possible romantic alternate realities between Rachel and Christine. My mind is a masochistic engineer and I can't help it. To stir the hive or quietly traipse around it as if I were never there?

"Would you like to play truth or dare?"

Just call me the hive rouser.

She narrows her beautiful chestnut eyes at me and smiles like the Cheshire cat. "Ok. But will it be fun with just the two of us?"

"Truth or dare, Rachel."

"Dare."

Damn. That was fast. Think think.

"I dare you to drink the last sip of my wine," I say as I spit into my glass. Ha! Didn't see that one coming and it's not like she hasn't sucked on my tongue before.

Sorry. I'm trying to keep these asides strictly PG-13.

"You're disgusting. Give it to me. Can't say I haven't done worse," she says as he knocks back my Quinn cocktail. I need to know what she means by _that_.

"Truth or dare, Fabray."

"Truth." I'm playing it safe after the dare I just gave her.

"How many girls did you hook up with in Argentina?"

Shit. I think I need more wine.

"Wine refill?" That should distract her.

"I'm good. You can grab some, but don't think you're not answering my question."

Shit. It's not a big deal, right? Santana'd want to know, too. Where's that wine? I'm suddenly feeling parched.

"I'm waiting," she sing-songs impatiently.

"Twoyourturntruthordare."

"No way. You have to actually answer the question."

"I totally did! You asked how many and I gave you a number. I answered. Now it's your turn."

"No, you have to give me names or some kind of detail at the least," she probes like an interrogator.

Oh G-d, this is an interrogation. I just walked myself into an interrogation room.

"Fine, but let it be known follow up questions will no longer be allowed. First there was Chelly and then Inez – French exchange student. Is that enough detail for you?"

"Yes and I pick truth."

"Why did you start dating Christine after you had told me the last time I sat on this couch that you thought of her as just a friend?"

Two can play at this game. Rachel and I have always been skilled word tango dancers.

"I don't have to answer that question. I think you know the answer."

"Was it me?"

"No follow ups!"

"What, that's not fair. You gave me a non-answer so technically you haven't answered the question yet."

"Fine. I began dating her because it was time."

"What the hell does that even mean, Rachel?"

"It means I had someone who was willing to love me right in front of me and I couldn't resist her anymore. She was exactly what I needed!"

Needed. Past tense.

"And what do you need now?"

"Follow your own rules, Quinn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to do the one thing we both know we've been dying to do all day," she says as she stares straight through my soul. Confident Rachel really is hot as my panties can testify to.

Unconsciously, I get up from my spot on the smaller couch and join her on the love seat. I lick my lips as I see her do the same. She's magnetic I swear it. I lean into her personal space and hug her as if my life depended on it and breathe on her scent. She's so warm and so right and I don't want to let go.

"I've missed my friend," I whisper into her hair. "I've missed you more than you could ever imagine. More than I probably should have. More than I know I should have, but I'm here now."

"Me, too," she whispers back sadly, "Me, too."

Somehow I eventually leaned back and brought Rachel to lay down beside me on the couch while still holding onto the other. She's always felt so comfortable on my arms like the best people sized stuffed animal that actually loves you back.

"I wish it had been you," she says finally, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" I ask because I didn't ask a question.

"The answer to your next question," she says knowingly.

She really is clairvoyant. I wanted to ask, "Who did you kiss at midnight?" or "Who took you out to celebrate your success for the Golden Grove?"

I lay still contemplating everything we still have left unsaid and imagining a life of what could have been.

"The answer's always you," she finishes before she kisses my cheek and snuggles closer.


	11. Chapter 11: Secrets, Lies, and Honesty

**A/N: Sorry for the realllly long wait. Weddings and the move from hell have foiled me. That, and a lack of wifi. Hope you all haven't forgotten about this one.**

* * *

**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

**Chapter 11: Secrets, Lies, and Honesty**

**Christine**: Apparently girls' weekend was a success and now everyone is honky dory. Rachel has been happier than I've seen her in a long time and her and Quinn are bffs again. She said that things are good with her new girlfriend, who is supposedly ridiculously gorgeous and a model, and if I can guess anything about Quinn, that means she won't be leaving her anytime soon.

My weekend was fun, but I wish Rach could have been there to meet my family and lounge around in our bikinis on the yacht. Oh well, summer's only begun. I'm sure she can squeeze some time in to go to the Cape. Who wouldn't want to go?

You know, if something fishy was up, you'd tell me, right? I hope we have that kind of relationship.

**Brittany**: Girls' weekend rocked! I found an apartment in Queens on a cute little street and Quinn and Rachel are happy again. Yay! Now if only San's letter from Columbia would come in the mail and tell us she can come to New York, too. Once I decided I wanted to move here, San applied to transfer to Columbia. She's really nervous she won't get in, but she's like really smart so I know she will! That's why I made sure she came to look at apartments with me because she'll need to like our new place, too!

**Rachel**: Skype has become my new best friend again. Quinn and I message each other all the time whenever we get the chance and video chat when we both happen to be on. I, of course, try to stay logged on all day, just in case. It's always a surprise whenever we get to chat and it's kind of like the highlight of my day trying to guess when she's going to be available to speak with me. And I know what you're thinking, she's not your girlfriend, Rachel and she keeps saying jerky things to you, and that's all true but when we're together it doesn't feel that way.

Besides, I know plenty of friends who Skype with each other all the time, so I know this is legit and not at all romantically inclined or an act that can or should be considered cheating.

Speak of the devil. Look whose name just popped up on my screen and is causing my computer to ring. Let me find my headphones really quick.

"Rachel? Can you hear me? I can't see you yet."

There's that silky voice that makes me smile even on the worst of days – like when I didn't get a second call back from my very first audition.

"Ohp! There you are! Can you hear me?" Quinn asks as she waves her hand in front of the computer.

"I hear you and see you perfectly, Quinn. How are you? How's your day been?" I ask with a content smile to match my heart. Talking to Quinn always makes me happy because it's the one thing I've wanted the most since freshman year of high school and I still can't believe that she gets excited to talk to me on some days.

"Better now that I'm talking to you."

Heart be still. Buttah! That's what Quinn makes me feel like. Melted buttah.

"Quinn Fabray when did you become such a smooth operator? Is that how you treat all the ladies?"

Ha! And that ladies and gents, is how you unhinge a certain Ms. Fabray.

**Quinn**: I can't help but chuckle as Rachel calls me out on my flirtations.

"Smooth operator; you're a gone alligator," she sings. "Anyway, how's Yale these days?"

Oh jeez.

"Seriously, Rach? Are you going to ask me that every time?"

"Yes and it's not a rhetorical question so just answer me."

Pushy Rachel is cute.

"Yale's fine. Volunteering for the summer chemistry camp has been fun. These kids are so nerdy it's adorable. I hope one of them grows up to cure cancer or something."

"And I'm sure you're their dream counselor with beautiful blonde hair and a smokin' bod. I bet they're always nervous around you."

Is she flirting with me? Rachel Berry is definitely flirting with me.

"I can't tell. They're pretty quiet and reserved in general to be honest."

"Exactly. That's because they're stunned by your beauty all the time. Duh."

And she calls _me_ the smooth talker?

"Oh sure, sure. Speaking of being stunned into silence, you ready to knock your audition out of the park on Sunday? You deserve this one. I can feel it in my bones."

"And by Sunday you mean tomorrow. You better be knocking on wood, Fabray. If I don't get it I'm blaming your jinx."

I feign fear and knock repeatedly on my desk, bed frame, pencil, and head.

"That should cover it! And sorry, I've lost track of the days. All I know is that it's day 5 with these kids and they're going home tomorrow."

I love making Rachel laugh. Her laugh used to irritate the hell out of me, but only because if I didn't see it that way, I would have fallen for her sooner and high school Quinn couldn't do that. Now her laugh makes me smile like a fool and that makes me happy.

"Perfect. Now I'll only have myself to blame. I'm as ready as I can be. All I can do is my best and hope they like me. I think I've thrown myself into the character so much, half of the time I feel as if I really am her these days."

"How so?" I ask with genuine curiosity. I don't really see Rachel having much in common with an arms dealer who moonlights as a fruit vendor.

"Well, the character is good at what she does. It comes naturally to her, and while she has no problem with evading the authorities, she can't help but feel compelled to jeopardize everything and leave it all behind to have a legitimate relationship with the mechanic next door. To me, I've always been an open book with my emotions, but some things I keep to myself, and a part of me wants to be honest and leave it all behind. Does that make sense? I can understand why she lies because we all do it in some way or another."

Hmm, I'm pretty sure she's talking about me, but I'm not sure which one I am. Am I the secret she wants to give up for Christine? Or does she want to be honest with me? Oh gosh I'm so confused.

"You're going to be so good, I just know it. I used to believe secrets were best kept hidden, but I know that that's not true now. Call that my two cents for the day."

She's staring so intently into the screen I'm pretty sure she's frozen, but then she blinks slowly and I know she's mulling over what I just said.

"Truth or dare?" she asks out of nowhere.

"Truth," I respond bravely.

"Do you ever think about us? As in, what an 'us' could have been like?"

She looks away from the computer screen to her keyboard as soon as the question leaves her mouth. Maybe I am the secret.

"Yes, but I try not to. Best not to dwell on the what ifs, right?"

I try not to because it hurts too damn much to imagine how perfect we could have been together. It hurts too much to imagine being able to kiss her whenever I want to, or waking up to her face on the pillow next to me. It hurts too much knowing that I did that to myself. And now it hurts way too damn much knowing that she thinks about it, too.

"Right. Well... I have to go. I need to catch my beauty sleep for tomorrow's audition. Wish me luck, friend."

Friend. That hurts sometimes, too.

"You're perfect, Rachel, and if they don't see that, then they'll regret it for the rest of their lives."

Yes, honesty has always been the best policy, but I don't think it counts when I camouflage it with a separate situation. Who cares? It feels good at least having said it at her.

"Night, Rach. _Buena suerte mañana_."

"Thanks, Q."

Ugh, where's Prama when I need her?

**Rachel**: I think my audition went well. Of course, I can only hope as much, but it felt different. It felt comfortable and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a call back. I've decided to walk home and allow myself to think.

New York really is quite beautiful. It's so easy to forget the beauty in life sometimes when you're too preoccupied with the destination and not the journey. I love all of the different styles of architecture and watching the children play in the parks without a care in the world. I envy their levity. I think I'd like to feed the ducks today. Yes, that sounds like fun. I see now why Brittany likes to do it.

424B. Home already? As they say, time flies when you're having fun. I think I'm going to make myself some tea and draw up a bubble bath. Yes, that sounds delightful.

"How'd it go?"

Goodness, I've just been tackle hugged by my girlfriend.

"E, what're you doing here? I thought you had to work? And how did you get in?"

"I came to see how the audition went, they didn't need me today, and Sara let me in. Now tell us, how did it go? Did you get it?"

This one's full of surprises I tell you! She cares about me so much she is just too cute. She makes it too easy to want to mess with her.

"Well," I start as I drop my face and try to hide my expression, "It could have gone better, that's for sure."

"What? Oh no, honey. I'm so sorry, you worked so hard for it," she says with so much caring and compassion that I feel like a huge ass.

"That sucks asshole, dude. I know you were totally gunning for it," Sara adds. Now I feel like a double ass.

"I'm just kidding you guys, well kind of. I think it went really well, I don't know I just have this feeling. They said they'll be doing call backs later today."

"You fucking _asshole_! Here we are feeling bad for you and you're lying to us!" Sara chastises me in the most loving way she knows.

"Hey I gotta get my kicks where I can, but I wasn't completely lying, any audition can always be better."

Maybe that'll redeem me.

"Not nice, Rach. I was already thinking of ways to cheer you up."

"That's because you're a great girlfriend. Care to enlighten me? Oh, wait! My phone's ringing."

I look down at my screen and don't recognize the number. Quinn's text can wait. Could it be my call back? Holy shit.

"Hello? Yes, this is she. Yes. Oh, ok. Yes, of course. You bet. Goodbye."

Oh my Streisand.

"Well," they say in unison.

"That was my call back. They want me to come back tomorrow and try me out with the two male lead finalists. Oh my gosh! This might be it!"

Bahhhhhhhh! I don't even. I can't even. Oh my gosh! I could be the star of the biggest off Broadway musical next season.

"A chemistry read? Fuck yeah! You totally got this you lucky talented bitch!" Sara yells out from behind me.

"I'm so so proud of you babe," says Eli as she approaches me with open arms.

This is actually happening. I got out of Lima and I'm staying out of Lima. Oh dear, I think I'm gonna faint.

"Breathe, Rach, breathe. Sit down and let me make you a cup of tea. Then, I'll draw you a bath. Sound good?"

How does she read my mind?

"Sounds perfect. Will you be joining me?" Good news always _excites_ me in multiple ways.

"I'd love to," she says with a wink over her shoulder sexily as she walks into the kitchen. Um, how did I /just/ notice her ridiculously short black cut off shorts?

"And can we go feed the ducks later," I throw in for good measure.

"Sounds like a plan."

"You kind of like me, don't you?"

"Yeah. Kind of," she says nonchalantly.

"Me too," I answer. "Now get that tea going so I can gets my bubble bath on."

"Oh wow! You've been hanging out with Santana too much," Eli says surprised by my choice of words.

"Hey, I can be hood, too!"

"False. Stop talking and get your cute butt in the bath," she orders.

"Yes ma'am!"

**Celia**: Ciao! Sorry I'm a little tardy for the party, but I never disappoint. Ok, _that_ sounded retarded, but I say stupid things when I get nervous sometimes.

You probably want to know a little more about me, huh? Let's see, let's see. What don't you know? My parents are Catholic missionaries who moved to Argentina from Boston when they were in their 20s but they had me here to make sure I'd be a citizen, and yes, that means I'm a pretty devout Catholic myself. I know Quinn's not, but we're working on it. I'll get her to come to church with me if it kills her.

What else? I saw her first at the airport. I had been watching her for some time and I could tell she was pretty depressed about something, so when we ended up sitting next to each other, I took that as a sign that I was meant to know her. I've never had flight anxiety, but I had to do something to get her attention and staring at her point blank and bumping into her while putting my bag in the overhead bin didn't do anything. She was in her own little world. So I faked it, and she was so willing to help me, my heart was instantly hers.

We shared stories about our lives, but she never mentioned why she had been so sad when I first saw her and I didn't want to push it. I saw a clue when she went to the restroom, a small piece of folded paper was sticking out of her bag. I've always been nosy, so of course I took it out and started to read it. I didn't think she had actually opened it yet because the folds were still so crisp and untouched. It was signed by a girl named Rachel, but I wasn't able to read much initially because she came back pretty quickly.

I did, however, get the gist that this girl was sorry and would like to try again from the beginning. I panicked and made a decision that that girl should have said so to her face and it was her loss I got to the letter first. I kept it and she's never seen it, and that's the way I like it.

Think what you want, but I go after what I want no matter the cost. Her loss is my gain and it's the best decision I've ever made. I had to see this infamous "Rachel" for myself so I invited myself to coffee just to catch a glimpse.

Quinn hardly talks about her, but when she does, there's this softness that happens in her eyes – like this girl does and always will hold a special place in her heart. Well guess what, I don't like playing second fiddle and refuse to be. She was pretty and all, but I'm prettier.

I also put out, so that's something I'll always have over her. Making Quinn cum is one of my favorite things to do and if that's what I have to do to keep her distracted from Rachel, then sign me up! I made sure she'd be sore before they had their little friend weekend. I'm sure Rachel's girlfriend's thinking the exact same thing, if she's smart. It was pretty damn obvious they still have a thing for each other by the way they were looking at each other at the coffee shop, like they were the only two people in the room that mattered. I don't know, I don't see the allure, but whatevs.

I burned the letter because Quinn can never know it existed. It would ruin everything, and you're not going to fucking say a word. Hear me? I probably shouldn't even had said anything.

I'm her first girlfriend and girl everything, and you bet your bottom dollar it's going to stay that way if I have anything to do with it.

**Quinn**: Have you met Chel yet? She's really nice. A little feisty, but in a sexy way.

Anywho, Rachel got a callback for her arms dealer/fruit vendor musical. The name of it escapes me right now. I didn't hear back from her until later that night, but I was so excited for her as if it just happened. Christine even joined our Skype chat and she was so excited for Rach, you'd think she had auditioned and got the part, too. You'd have to be blind not to notice how happy together they look. I'm glad Rach found someone who could give her what I couldn't.

I'm positive she's going to get the part, but whether she's going to stay in school if she does, I'm not so sure. I mean, I guess the whole point of her going to school was to refine her talents so that she could get this level of job, so if she gets it now, then I guess she'd have already met her goal without the need of the rest of her schooling. I don't know, I wish she'd stay and finish her education. At least she would get the lead in the big school productions from now on, but that's not my decision to make.

Oh! Did I mention she's going to come to visit me in New Haven next month? It'll be her first time and I'm super stoked. It's been kind of a ghost town around here this summer but at least I have heard from Prama a few times and Sunny once.

I miss those girls.

**Prama**: Who are they trying to _fool_? They both get girlfriends at the exact same time right after having a major serious conversation that didn't turn out well. _Of course_ that's the perfect time to get into a relationship.

That's sarcasm, folks, in case you missed it.

I'm not sure who I feel worse for, their girlfriends or them? Those girls _must_ have some clue that something's not exactly kosher in their so-called friendship. Then again, I feel bad for them if they're actually denying themselves of what they truly want.

I know, it's none of my business, at least concerning Rachel and Christine's relationship, but Quinn is sort of making it my business by telling me so much. I'd be a bad friend if I didn't give her my opinion and let her make horrible decisions.

Celia sounds like a nice enough girl and Quinn was her knight in shining armor, saving her from a panic attack. Their story sounds cute. I can't help but notice, though, that it seems very... _physical_. When Quinn talks about her it isn't all puppies and kisses, but rather like she's talking about San or Brittany – you know – like just a friend. A friend who she happens to screw. I don't know, I get a weird vibe off it.

Anyway, enough gossip. I was a little peeved that Quinn just up and left to Argentina for a semester without so much as a warning. Seriously, who does that? But we've smoothed things over and we're all gravy in the navy. I am excited to meet Rachel once and for all. I'm going up to New Haven while she's there for a day or so to finally meet Quinn's "best friend plus". Q has a lot planned so it should be loads of fun!

**Rachel**: Please excuse me if I'm a little winded while I exercise. This playlist, which is more than likely atypical for physical exertion, always gets me so fired up and motivated. It's a compilation of my favorite songs from my favorite musicals, although I also occasionally throw in some Ye & J in there as well. I told you I could be a little hood!

Oh! A text from Quinn. It's kind of early for her to be awake, I wonder if it's important.

_Quinn – Morning, Rach. Are you busy from 10-12 this morning?_

This morning? 10? That's in 4 hours. We never set our Skype chats to paper.

_Rachel – Good morning, Quinn. You're up quite early. As for my schedule, I had planned on running some errands such as getting a pedicure, replenishing hair products, and beginning to read my latest novel in the park. Why do you ask?_

Seconds pass before I receive a response. She might as well just call me.

_Quinn – You know I'm coming to the city for the weekend and I thought you'd might want to hang out, just the two of us, before I see Chel. She thinks I'm coming in around 12:30, but I can catch an earlier bus if you'd like to see me first._

See her first? She's not going to tell her girlfriend she came in early and instead hang out with me in secret? I wonder why she feels the need to do that. Should I not tell Eli, either? Goodness, what do you think this means? Ugh, I hate my playlist sometimes. "Paranoid" just came on. What impeccable timing.

**You worry 'bout the wrong things, the wrong things. You worry 'bout the wrong things, the wrong things.**

In secret, though. Why? Suddenly the word "infidelity" pops into my mind and makes me sick to my stomach. It's been at least 4 minutes since I received her message and I still don't even know what to think of it. The last time Quinn deceived people for her own personal gain was when she was a Cheerio. I do not like the feel of this.

_Quinn – Or not. It was a stupid idea. It's just that I wanted to see you and if I told Chel, she might not take it well and I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Just forget about it. We're still on for our double date on Sunday, right?_

_Rachel – I am flattered you would like to see me Quinn, but I don't think this is the proper way to go about it. We'll see each other on Sunday during our double date. For now, enjoy your weekend with Celia and send her my regards._

That wasn't too harsh, was it? But then again, you have to admit her behavior is strange. But I'm just a friend and if I were seeing, oh I don't know, Kurt, let's say, I wouldn't feel compelled to tell Eli about it… although I wouldn't feel as if I couldn't either. I don't like deceit and I can't help but wonder – would she be doing this with someone else if she had dated me?

**Christine**: Oh this double date should be interesting. I feel ambivalent about it, really. I'd like to meet Celia and see if she really is as beautiful as Rachel makes her out to be and whether or not Quinn's finally past her feelings for Rachel, but if the answers are no to either of those questions, then it's the perfect recipe for disaster. So I'd rather avoid it altogether. But this was something Rachel really wanted us to do, and if Quinn's going to be coming to the city a lot more and I want to feel completely at ease when Rachel goes to New Haven in two weeks, then I need to bite the bullet and do this.

Lately, I've been feeling really good about Rachel and I. Not that I ever felt as if we didn't click, but I feel like we're really getting into the swing of things as of recent, like we could really go the distance. Have you ever had that feeling before?

I mean, I haven't told her that I love her, but I know that I do. I'm not sure if she's there yet, so I don't want to say it and have to take that awkward panicked stare you get when the other person doesn't want to say it back. I know you know the look. Imagine getting pulled over for a speeding ticket while trying to smile. Wide eyes that search for the nearest exit and look at you with pity. Yeah, I don't want to face that just yet and-

Sorry, Rachel just sent me a text.

_Rachel – I have a semi-weird question to ask you, but I'm only telling you because I trust you completely and want to be 100% honest with each other at all times._

Uhhh, ok. What the heck is that supposed to mean?

_Christine – Ok, shoot._

_Rachel – Is it weird that Quinn wanted to come early and hang out with me but not tell her girlfriend about it, knowing that it would probably cause a fight?_

The _fuck_?! There are like a million things wrong with that question, I don't even know where to begin. What the fuck is going through that girl's mind. Obviously the answer to at least one of my earlier questions is no.

I'm literally seeing red right now. That's a real thing. Who the fuck does this stupid bitch think she is, thinking that she can just show up to New York and see my girl all alone, just the two of them, with no one knowing? Hello?! It's called a fucking affair and I don't care if it's just starting off; if you're going to have _lunch _in secret, then guess what, you're going to end up _fucking_ in secret, too! And I don't give a _damn_ if telling her girlfriend would cause a fight. The only reason that would happen is because she gives her girlfriend a _reason_ to be angry about her hanging out with Rachel _alone_. And that of course means that that hoe has a thing for my girl.

_My_ girl. _Mine_. _Not hers_. Fucking slut missed her chance and she's not going to try and take what's mine. What I've worked so hard to nurture and keep. Stupid bitch. Ok, keep your cool and don't yell through the text.

_Christine – Yes. It's really weird._

Don't blow up at her. She was nice enough to tell you about it first because it didn't sound legit to her, either. See, you can trust her. She ran it by you first.

Phew, breathe.

But it's not her that I don't trust, it's that fucking whoretney Quinn. Quinn "Isaslut" Fabray. Quinnorrhea "Openforbusiness" Fabray. Quinn "STDQueen" Fabray. Quinn "NeedstohopthefuckoffofRachel 'snuts" Fabray.

Bitch.

_Rachel – Ok, that's what I thought. Please don't be upset with me. I had already told her no before I texted you, if that's any consolation._

Oh thank God. Thank you Lord. See? You picked a good one.

_Christine – Thank you for being honest with me, babe. It means a lot to me. But know that I wouldn't be a normal person if I didn't question Quinn's intentions with you. I trust you, but not her._

… and I almost said I love you. Holy shit.

In a text? No way.

Oh and guess what, this double date is _so _fucking on it's not even funny. Quinn won't even know what hit her. And that New Haven trip? Guess who just invited themselves?


	12. Chapter 12: Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 12: Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

**Quinn**: In my defense, I thought this double date dinner would help out both of our relationships, but I obviously thought wrong. I can see this is becoming a pattern of mine. Had I known, I wouldn't have asked for this dinner in the first place.

As an outside observer, one would think that the four of us were getting along quite amiably, but it was all just a veneer – a thin layer of falsity for the unsettled feelings we all harbor in some form or another.

Rachel looked absolutely stunning in her black dress. I've always thought she looked amazing in black. It gives her a not-so-goody-two-shoes look that makes the room too hot all at once, and the particular cut of tonight's dress teasingly covered her tan skin while enhancing the delicate curves of her body. But who's counting, right?

Chel looked nice, too. I wore a new red dress. And of course, as predicted, Christine's was blue. Typical.

The night started out fine enough, but things went downhill after we ran out of pleasantries and I complimented Rachel's outfit. I don't know if it was what I said, how I said it, or hormones and PMS, but Chel went off. 0 to 60 in 2 seconds flat. She practically chewed my head off. I was saved only by our waiter who was nice enough to take his sweet time on the evening's specials, effectively forcing Chel to cool off.

I could feel the stale awkwardness surrounding our table. Actual conversation seemed to be off limits, so I stuck to silence and a caked on Mona Lisa smile. Then Christine took a dive. Rachel mentioned her upcoming trip to New Haven next week. Christine physically stiffened and asked what all we were going to do. I told her Prama and the girls were going to come in for the weekend because they all wanted to meet Rachel, so we were going to have a big girls' weekend.

"Well, if you're going to have a big _girls'_ weekend, then you won't mind adding one more to your list. Mind if _I_ tag along?"

Mind? Umm… what?

"Excuse me?" It was lame, but it was all I could think of at the time.

Rachel was just as perplexed. "Sweetie, what do you mean? Why would you tag along? And, not that I would mind, per se, if you joined us during our weekend, but this was supposed to be my first opportunity to visit Yale and meet Quinn's roommates. You know, best friend bonding time. You understand, don't you?"

Thank you Lord for Rachel. To say that Christine looked upset would be an understatement. She looked as if she just sucked on a lemon covered in used cat litter.

_Crunch crunch crunch – cringe!_

I don't even remember eating our main course and maybe I didn't. All I know is that Chel suddenly had a late night model party to attend and currently, I don't mind being at her place alone in the slightest. At least she has wifi.

**Christine**: Was the dinner a disaster, you make ask. Well, it depends on what scale you're using. I'd say from a scale of Mt. St. Helen's to Nagasaki we were at about a 9/11. Yeah, that sounds about right.

First, Quinn the Foul couldn't keep her slimy cat eyes off of Rachel and had the audacity to tell her, "Rachel you look absolutely beautiful tonight, I could just rip that dress off of you and lick you up and down." Or so I heard.

That Celia. I like her and she _is_ as beautiful as Rachel says. She must have heard what I heard because she put her bitch in her place, but then Rachel had to ruin things and bring up New Haven, which caused that slut to gloat and go on and on about the _things_ they were going to do.

"Oh you know, I'm going to show her the campus, maybe play a few frames in our on-campus bowling alley, catch some karaoke, try out this awesome vegan place that has _the_ best pumpkin soup I've ever had in my life, maybe a mani-pedi with the girls, and some hiking or sailing. I'm sure the girls may have some other things they'd like to do, too. So who knows."

I wanted to smack that smug ass face right off of that blonde bimbo. So I go to invite myself and what does Rachel do? She shuts me down. I couldn't believe her. We've fought before and she has never said anything to make me sad, but the way that she told me no, that just cut me to my core. It felt as if she had pushed me into an ice bath while I was blindfolded. I don't know if that reaction was warranted, nor do I care, but that's how I felt. What would you have done?

**Celia**: I can't really talk right now. I'm kind of… preoccupied. All I can say is, two can play at this game.

"_Amor? Estoy esperando… desnuda._"

See what I mean? I'm _cumming_, Vanny.

**Rachel**: Do you _really_ need to know? I suppose I can recount the dinner for the sake of accuracy.

I have come to the conclusion that Celia despises me. When they entered the restaurant and spotted us in the entryway, Celia immediately reached for Quinn's hand and gave me a stare that said Quinn was off limits. In a way, her actions reminded me of a child who puts their stamp on everything – _This book belongs to Celia R. _– or like a dog that pees on a fire hydrant to mark his territory. Regardless, Quinn looked absolutely gorgeous in her red chiffon dress. I've always told her that red is my favorite color on her as I believe it compliments her skin tone and hair exquisitely, and I must say my opinion still stands firmly. Apparently, Quinn returning the compliment I paid about her appearance was off limits in her girlfriend's mind. As soon as the words were out of her perfectly fire engine red-lipsticked mouth, her girlfriend pounced.

"Excuse me. I'm right _fucking _here. I think you can tone it down a notch and at least pretend you have a girlfriend."

Uncalled for, right? As if I did not realize she was in a relationship notwithstanding the fact that Quinn wanted to have a double date dinner so that the four of us could become better acquainted. Quinn was shocked and looked embarrassed, but I was bewildered. Quinn did not retaliate or correct the woman. The Quinn I know is self-confident and would never allow someone to berate and embarrass her in public, let alone in front of a friend, like that – ever. It would not be the Fabray way. However, this Quinn took it with her tail between her legs and it made me sad – not to sound too Brittanyesque.

I began to rack my brain for conversation after we had ordered our beverages and mentioned my upcoming trip to New Haven. Quinn informed me of some of the events she had planned and I was quite excited to be able to meet all of her roommates. I knew I would be meeting Prama for certain, but I was surprised to see that all three of them were now confirmed. As we began to build off of one another's excitement, Christine interjected and rudely invited herself to join us. Who does that, especially when an affair is obviously meant to be private? Best friends weekend, not "best friends and girlfriend" weekend because then I'd have to choose which one to focus my attention on, leaving one to be the perpetual third wheel when the whole point is obviously to bond as best friends.

Sorry. It just really flusters me.

So, as politely as I could, after having been thrown for a loop, I let Christine down and I must say I was disappointed. I thought Christine Eliza had much better manners than that. Quinn's girlfriend continued staring daggers into my eyes and body all night while we all swallowed down our food between cold stilted conversation.

The only salvation of this dinner? Sometime between unpleasantries, I accidentally touched Quinn's calf with my foot as I crossed my legs. She looked to me smiling in the middle of conversation, as not to draw attention and didn't seem put off. I wish I could tell you I had the willpower to squash down the electric tingles that surged through my body from our touch, but that would be a lie. Which is why I did it again, intentionally. Slower and longer – ankle to calf. And she smiled. And for me, that was enough for the night.

**Christine**: I don't mean to dwell, but she didn't even try to cheer me up. I don't think she even noticed how deeply she hurt me. Our cab dropped me off first and do you know what she said? Goodnight. She told me goodnight.

She used to linger and ask me to come up, but not tonight.

**Quinn**: Is it weird that I like going through Chel's closet and try on some of her more "modern" modeling outfits? I mean, that's one of the great advantages of being in a gay relationship: double the wardrobe.

Take this one for instance. It's a black lace… I'm not really sure what. It looks like someone took some scissors to my nana's kitchen tablecloth. I'm not even really sure what part of my body I'm supposed to wear it on because there are big… um, holes, I can only assume, everywhere. Do you think this is supposed to go over clothes or is this more like a summer cover up for your bikini or one of those sarong thingies? Or maybe it's more of a redefined poncho?

Next! What other treasures can I find in here?

Suddenly, Rachel's text message ringtone fills the room. It's called "glass" on my phone. She's probably going to yell at me because Christine yelled at her for having such a shitty time at dinner. Oh well, I deserve it I suppose. I should have seen this coming.

_Rachel – Quinn, I hope I am not bothering you, but I wanted to apologize for Christine's behavior tonight. I know tonight did not go as smoothly as we hoped, but at the least, I enjoyed your company, as always. RB*_

This girl. She's so nice and caring. And she enjoyed my company, "as always." You read that, too. And that whole "enjoying company" line was my thing.

_Quinn – Don't worry you're not bothering me. Chel left for the night, so I'm just trying to keep myself busy. _

_Rachel_ – _Left for the night? But you came into town to visit her. Was it an emergency? Is everything okay? RB*_

Just like Rachel to always be concerned for others, even if those other people could give a rat's ass about her.

_Quinn – She had some fancy late night model party to go to. It's probably best she have time to cool down anyway, especially after tonight's debacle, which I'm very sorry for, btw._

She stopped texting. Hmm. Back to the closet, I suppose. Look at this gold onesie! The only person that can pull something like this off would be Beyoncé and maybe Brittany. I wonder what she's up to.

My phone starts blaring _Without You_, the Usher version, although Rachel's was way better or so I've heard.

"Hey Rach! I'm kind of surprised you called. I figured you'd be getting ready for bed with Christine," I say voicing my fears if only because I'm a masochistic weirdo that likes to be right.

"Hello, Quinn. Christine went home after the dinner. After her display of manners, or lack thereof, I did not want her company for the night. And why would you be surprised by my phone call? I'm allowed to call my best friend, especially when her girlfriend's abandoned her, aren't I?"

"Abandoned? Of course you can call me, I just wasn't expecting you to. That's all."

I hope that didn't sound defensive. The line is quiet and it's as if I can actually hear her mind working on the other line.

"What are you thinking about over there?" I ask curiously.

"Honestly? I'm thinking what I would have done if you were my girlfriend who came to visit me for the weekend," she says matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" I provoke, my inner desires taking the reigns. "What would you have done differently?"

"The last thing I'd want to do is go to some party and leave you behind." That was _not_ the response I expected.

"Well what's the first thing you'd want to do?" I surge on.

"Quinn, don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answers to, please."

I'm feeling brave today. "I haven't."

"I would have made what little remained of our weekend memorable and kept you up all night. You can always sleep when you get back to New Haven and dream about our last night together," she says with a seductive smirk on her rich voice, now in it's lower range.

I have to clear my throat. Is it hot in here to you? You _can_ hear what she's saying, right?

**Rachel**: I decided to text Quinn because I felt the need to apologize for Christine Eliza's terrible manners. You know, your significant other is supposed to try to win over the best friend, not make them hate you. I was surprised to find that Quinn's significant other had abandoned her for the night. I could just imagine Quinn all alone by herself in Celia's apartment. Bored, scared, and thinking about leaving to New Haven early. She was probably getting ready for sleep in some kind of short sleep shorts and tank top.

So I decided to call her seeing as how I was prepared for bed as well. Something possessed me to tell her that if I were her girlfriend I wouldn't have left her alone. When she asked what I would have done differently, there was a flirtatiousness to her tone that sparked a fire inside me, and now, I'm feeling frisky. Flirting isn't cheating, you know.

"If I were your girlfriend, I would have made what little remained of our weekend memorable and kept you up _all night_. You can always sleep when you get back to New Haven and dream about our last night together."

Quinn is so cute when she's flustered. She practically choked on her own spit from my teasing. All in good fun, of course. I can hear her lick her lips through the phone.

"Would you rather Skype?" I ask, my subconscious making an appearance. To think, we're in the same city and the best we can do is see each other over the computer.

"I'd love to. Let me just log on really quickly," she says. I know she's grabbing for her iPad, opening the cover, scrolling her finger down to the third row of the first page of apps, and padding her fingertip on the one second to the left.

Timing perfect, I hear my laptop screen ringing.

"Hi," she says as her luminous face fills my screen and she hangs up her cell phone. I move to put mine down as well and I can't help but smile softly.

"Hey back," I say. Immediately I notice the expanse of creamy pale skin covering her neck and collar bones… as if she's shirtless. "What are you up to?"

"Well, before you called, I was going through Celia's closet and trying on some of her weird model clothes."

"Would you model them for me?" I ask boldly. Any excuse to see Quinn Fabray in her unmentionables should never be wasted. Ask Puck, he can attest to that I'm sure.

"Really, Rach?" She asks laughingly. "Some of this stuff is pretty weird, but… sure why not? Let me just prop this up on some pillows. Ok, there. Can you still see me?" she asks as I now have a clear view of the closet doorway and a very near nude Quinn wearing black satin panties and matching bra.

"Perfect," I croak out. "I've never lost sight."

She smiles and disappears into the closet. Just as quickly she comes out with a black lace thing tied around her waist like a sarong, topless still.

"Um, Quinn. That's not a sarong," I say with a large smile, stifling a laugh.

"Really? That was my best guess. I have no idea what this thing is. How do you wear it?" she asks genuinely confused.

"It's like a summer cape. You wear it over your shoulders with your head in the middle. You're supposed to wear something cute underneath."

She unties the garment from her waist and puts her head into the center whole. "You know, that was my third guess."

Oh my. Quinn Fabray is one of the cutest sexiest people on the planet.

"Ok, next one!" I demand. She disappears into the closet again. This time taking longer than before. Her form appears in the doorway facing away from me with a dress covering her lower half with her left hand holding the front of the dress to her chest as her right hand snakes around to unclasp her bra. The black garment falls to the floor and I'm faced with the strong toned back of a nude Quinn Fabray. Sometime while I was busy picking up my jaw from the floor, she finished tying up the back of her dress.

"What do you think about this one?" she asks self-consciously.

"Amazing. You look absolutely… just perfectly… exquisite, Quinn. You look marvelous."

Quinn begins to saunter towards me and picks up her iPad bringing me face-to-face with her. "You always know how to make me feel better, Rachel. I love that about you," she says honestly.

My cheeks are burning up and I can't help it that I'm hornier than a teenage boy. "I'm gonna put you down again," she warns. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me because Quinn's now undressing right in front of the iPad.

I'm going to die. Right now. Time of death 1:14 am. Oh mama. Breath in, breathe out.

Her body is facing me as she goes to untie the dress. The halter top falls off her shoulders quickly and just as quickly her forearm and hand reach to cover her most intimate parts. I… I… Quinn nearly flashed me her breasts. Her hands, _guh_ I love them. Her fingers are so long yet delicate, her tendons and veins showing ever so slightly. They look skilled and dexterous and I can't help but imagine the amazing talented things she can do with them. I'm jealous of her hands and want them all over me at the same time. I'm blatantly staring into her screen, ogling her.

"Rach," she says slowly and seductively.

_SLAM!_

"Rach, you home?" Sara's scream echoes off the walls and has broken me out of my trance.

"Shit. Sorry, Q," I say, closing the lid slightly. "Yeah, I'm going to sleep!" I answer back at half her volume.

"Cool, just came to get something really quick. I'll be at Joe's," she says off-handedly as she fumbles around in the living room.

"K, night!" I respond quickly. "Quinn you still there?"

All I can see is a view to the closet, not a person in sight. "Yeah, I just went to grab a shirt," she says as she comes into view in only a white tank top, sans bra, and black panties. "Are you really going to sleep? I was hoping you'd stay up with me for a little longer."

**Santana**: Holy shit! You know what I just thought of? Q calls her GF "Chel." Can you imagine when they're doing it?

"Oh, Chel."

"Mmm, Chel."

"Ahhh, Chel!"

Ra-CHEL! Holy shit, right? That sounds way too similar for comfort. I wonder if she's ever slipped up. I bet she totally has.

"Rachel!"

"What did you just say?" she'd accuse.

"What? I said, 'Arrrrrgh, Chel!' Just don't stop, don't stop baby."

Priceless.

**Quinn**: I didn't set out to flirt with Rachel so openly, but once she popped up on my screen in her blue silk kimono and her hair tousled sexily over her shoulders, I was a goner. I mean, really, who sleeps like that? Should one person be so… alluring? No, I don't think that's fair.

So yeah, I showed her some of the goods and I definitely got the reaction I was hoping for, but then she bent down her laptop screen, I'm sure without thinking much into, but it aimed the screen straight down her kimono. Did you know that Rachel Berry sleeps without a bra? Well you do now. I had to get changed and cover up a bit because my nipples were betraying me.

Part of me thinks, Rachel and I are in the same city. She's alone tonight, as am I. So why not…

"If you're sleepy, really I can let you go," I offer if only to give myself a chance to be a good girl. I'm playing hopscotch with a live grenade right now.

"Don't be so dense. I want to spend time with you. Plus, you can't well expect me to fall asleep so quickly after such an… enthralling fashion show," she says with a glint in her deep brown eyes.

Damn. Rachel Berry knows how to derail my train of thought. What can I say to her? What should I say to her? Most days I think of conversation to bring up with Rachel or try to distract myself with random stuff so that I don't have to think about her, us, what could have been, and where I am now.

Right now? I'm out of distractions. Out of conversation. And the thoughts that rush to the fore are not necessarily things I should voice. Things I have no right to say but desperately want out of my head.

"Shit. Sorry. I wish I knew what to say," I admit at a loss for words.

"We don't have to say anything. Sometimes, just seeing you is enough for me."

Enough for her? What does that mean?

"I wish that were the case," I slip, but she chooses a silent smile and saves me from further probing. "Rachel, tell me something. Anything. Or ask me anything. I'm an open book."

"Did you and Celia get into a fight tonight?"

"No, actually. We came back to her place. She seemed normal. She went to the restroom, changed her dress and said she had to go to a late night party with her model friends and not to wait up. You know, a work thing."

"And you're ok with that? Being alone, I mean?"

"Well I don't really have much choice. That sort of thing wouldn't have been my scene. It's late and it'd be too far for Brit to come down here."

"I'm alone tonight," she says looking down immediately. "If you didn't want to be alone that is."

"Tempting, but I think I should stay unless I want WWIII after Celia realizes I'm not here, whenever she does come home eventually. Plus-"

A text message.

_Celia – Amor, I drank 2 much. Im going 2 stay at Vanessa's 2nyt. xxx_

"Or not. She just sent me a text. She's staying at her friend's place."

"That's convenient. At least she is staying in one place and you won't have to worry any more," she says genuinely.

Worry… yeah, about that. I hadn't really thought about her since she left. Is that a bad thing?

"Quinn?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just kind of spaced."

"Why didn't you stop me earlier today during dinner? And don't play coy, you know exactly what I'm talking about," she says looking directly into the camera, looking into my soul.

Fuck. She's got me there.

Honesty has always been the best policy. "Because I didn't want to. Why- why did you do it in the first place?"

"It was an accident at first, but then- then I just really wanted to. Is… that's, that's bad isn't it? I mean, I have Christine and you have Celia. I'm so sorry I shouldn't have-"

"Rachel, stop. Look we- we're human and we make mistakes. We both wanted it and they weren't any the wiser. Besides it doesn't have to mean anything. Friends cuddle and hold hands some times and it's perfectly normal. If we don't attach anything to it, then it's not a thing and it's none of their business. Right?"

Logic hasn't always been my strong suit but that sounds right.

"That's just it, isn't it? If I felt something, then does it really not mean anything?"

"Rach," I start.

"I shouldn't have said anything. Forget I said anything," she cuts me off quickly.

"I felt something, too, Rach. So no, I won't forget it." I say as I look up toward the screen through my lashes. I'm fairly certain I'm blushing and her face is beaming.

"So…" I try to break the tension. "Next week's going to be interesting, wouldn't you say?"

She smiles as she takes her plump bottom lip between her teeth. "Probably so."


	13. Chapter 13: Reap What You Sow

MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO

Chapter 13: Reap what you sew

**Rachel**: Life really is like a box of chocolates. They're never vegan so you end up pawning them off on some random homeless person who looks at you wearily and throws them away because they think you're some hobo-killing psycho that poisons food and gives it to the homeless.

_Gracious me!_

I am so sorry, that was far too morbid. Please forgive me, I haven't been feeling myself lately. It's just that, well, I am sure you can empathize, or at least sympathize with the fact that I will be on the way to New Haven in little less than 24 hours and I _still _don't have anything to wear! What am I supposed to do? I can't show up without a decent dress in the event that we go to a party or a nice lounge or dinner. What will she say? "This is my friend Rachel from New York" and then her friends will think, _then why does she dress like she fell into the sales bin at Wal-Mart?_

No thank you. That would be mortifying. Which is why I now find myself window shopping in SoHo for the perfect outfit. Something that says this girl cares about her appearance but not so much that it consumes her life, add a dash of breathtaking. Is purple my color? No, that's stupid. See? Impossible, right?

Think, Rachel, think. Gosh. Some of the women that are walking around these streets aimlessly without so much as a care in the world look so fabulous and the worst of it is that I know they don't really have to try. They just _are _beautiful. _All_ of their clothes look that good on them.

Ugh.

Look at those two holding hands at the end of the block. People that beautiful don't deserve to be together. It's like against the laws of the universe or something. I've heard that that's a thing. Kurt says beauty should be shared and I think it goes without saying that that should also apply to couples.

That brunette's black dress looks so familiar, kind of like the one Quinn tried on for me a few days ago. That's weird… oh shit. That's Celia… but the girl she's kissing in broad daylight is certainly not Quinn. Not even close. Maybe she's saying goodbye… and in the Latin culture it's commonplace to kiss each other on the cheek… oh… but they're using tongue.

_Wow,_ _that's intense._

Fuck. Turn around now and walk away before she sees you, stupid. _Oh shit, oh shit!_

**Quinn**: Prama's around the city somewhere and the other girls will be in before dinner. Rachel, of course, will be pulling into the station soon. Even though it's only been a few days since I've seen her last, my heart is doing back flips and somersaults in anticipation.

The sun is warm on my skin. I didn't put on any sunblock and if I stand out here any longer in the broad daylight, I know I'd burn. Best find myself some shade and wait for the 12:10 pm from New York. You know, it's times like these I wish I smoked again. It gives you something to do with your hands while looking like you don't give a shit when really you're just as bored and boring as everyone else. Well, there's always people watching. My sunglasses, my shield.

The old lady sitting on a bench in the bus station. Have you ever noticed her? There's one in every station. She looks altogether tired and her coral red lipstick, hot pink blush, and cerulean blue eye shadow just makes her look sad. A meaner person, _cough Santana cough_, would say her face looks like a rodeo clown grandma. She's always wearing one of her nicer dresses and jewelry – clip-on earrings and pearls or a brooch, of course. I wonder who this lady's waiting for. Could her prince charming be on Rachel's bus? Or maybe it's a granddaughter? Maybe she's getting ready to go somewhere? Or even worse, maybe she's just passing the time at a bus station because everyone likes to see happy reunions. I bet she was a looker back in her day. Her black purse is extremely worn and lumpy from the random treasures and trash she probably keeps with her. I imagine that if I took a looksy I'd find old used tissues, medicine, coupons, a coin purse, some kind of packaged carbohydrate, and a tattered photograph of her late husband. Pictures of people from the past are one of my favorite things to find. They're so personal, yet people don't know what to do with them and eventually sell them to consignment shops when they sell a chest or suitcase, contents and all.

I don't have a giant purse like hers; today I opted for my clutch. But that doesn't mean I don't have any personal objects on me. For instance, inside my phone case you will find the fortune I got from All Thaied Up when I visited Rachel. I know, a Chinese fortune cookie in a Thai restaurant didn't make sense to me either but I don't make the rules. It says, "Love has already found you. Open your eyes." Rachel said it was perfect and romantic. I thought that it's hard to open your eyes when you're swimming underwater, but I kept it anyway.

Speak of the devil! I see her bus pulling into the station now. My stomach feels like I just ingested baking soda and vinegar during an earthquake. Shake. _Explode_! I hate and love, really more love, the effect she has on me.

…wait. I have a girlfriend. Should I really be saying such things, let alone think them? Oh well, at least I'm being honest and honesty is always better than deception. Right. I wonder if Rachel felt this nervous when I came to visit her. Eeeep! I can't even stand it!

Eight people have come off the bus. I've been keeping count. Nine… ten… Rachel. Time to hold up my sign.

_MISS RACHEL B. BERRY*_

"Why madam, I do believe you are _the_ most beautiful driver who's ever had the pleasure to transport me to and fro," she says coolly.

_What is English?_ "Erguhm…"

"Quinn? Are you feeling well?" she suddenly asks me with concern, breaking her act.

I clear my throat. "Uhgm! Yup. Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm glad to be of service m'lady."

_M'lady? Did I really just say that aloud?_ I sound like Jacob Ben Israel or Sam's Sean Connery impressions. _Christ_. You can take the Lima out of the loser… Oh great. Now she's laughing at me.

"I hope you can provide me a list of your offered _services_, later."

Back into character. When did Rachel Berry become a sex god? If her sexy smirk and wink coupled with the most tender touch placing a strand of hair behind my ear is any indication of her skills, I'd say since birth. Okay, Fabray. Get a grip. You used to be a pro at this game. All about the teasin' and less about the… scratch that. All about the teasing. Period.

"It's my purpose in life to _service_ you, Miss Berry. My place or yours?"

Yup. Still got it, Fabray.

**Prama**: I've got us a table for three at Aphrodite's, this cool vegetarian/vegan/gluten free place Quinn and I come to from time to time that she said, "will totally impress Rachel." Man, that girl's got it bad. I'm happy for her, really I am. I just wish that she'd realize she's already technically in a relationship with someone else. I know some people can juggle relationships or are cool with dating multiple people, but something tells me Quinn and Celia aren't those kinds of people. This could definitely be a recipe for disaster.

_Quinnie_ – _Just down the street. Had to drop off Rach's bags._

_Me – I got us a table. Front, left._

Ok. Moment of reckoning. Let's meet this Rachel Berry.

**Christine**: She's with her and I hate it.

**Prama**: "Rachel! It's very nice to finally meet the person behind the legend. Quinn hit it on the nose. You are quite pretty. You _must_ tell me your hair secrets!"

Quinn's eyes were the size of saucers for a fleeting moment as if to say, "I can't believe you!" Oh, this girl is going to make it too easy to mess with her this weekend.

"Rachel, this is my roommate Prama. Prama, this is Rachel," Quinn says politely.

"It's so lovely to meet you, Prama. I've heard a lot about you as well. Prama… that's such a lovely name. What does it mean?" Rachel asks.

"It's Hindi for 'Knowing truth.' My baba used to joke saying that I see all like a fortune teller."

"Holy shit," Quinn says with a frosted look on her face out of nowhere. We both give her a worried and confused look. "N-nothing. Nothing. Shall we order? Rach, you _have_ to try the pumpkin bisque," Quinn continues.

"Well, only because you say so," Rachel says with the subtle flirtatiousness of a call-girl.

Damn. These girls got it bad.

**Rachel**: I knew Quinn was considerate, but she has completely gone above and beyond any and all of my expectations. This weekend is completely about the two of us and I'm so excited words cannot even express, but my obsessive compulsive affinity to details nags at me.

And I wonder, does she do this for Celia?

But I can't wonder these things, because that'll ruin everything. This gorgeous person in front of me, capturing my attention, considering my needs and likes, making me laugh and intriguing my intellect all at the same time – this, this is the girl I spent my entire high school career desperately trying to notice me and become my friend and now, now she's staring at my mouth as if she hasn't eaten for days. To say this is surreal would be putting it gently, but then again, not because like always, there's an obstacle keeping Quinn Fabray from me, and while I've made an improvement from that hindrance being my wardrobe or persistent attitude, now it's her _girl_friend.

And there I go ruining it again. Stop, Rachel. Just stop. Pay attention.

"So I hope you've enjoyed your lunch," she says as her hazel eyes look hopeful.

She's here with you, not with her. You. Rachel. Quinn and Rachel. Just the two of us.

"Quinn, this was wonderful. This restaurant is so cute and the food was amazing as well. You're right, I'm fairly certain that was the best pumpkin bisque I have ever had, but I must say I'm kind of sad."

"Sad? Oh no. Why? Is something wrong?" she asks quickly, looking around to spot some invisible imperfection.

"No. I'm sad because I know once I leave, I'm never going to have a pumpkin bisque this good again," I say with a coy smile.

"Oh!" she laughs nervously as Prama watches the two of us like we're the final match at Wimbledon. "You scared me for a second, Rach!"

"And you know what put the cherry on top of it all?" I ask, pausing for dramatic effect. She's leaning into my question. I can only hope that I can keep her attention like this for the rest of my life. "150 W. Henry Street."

"What?" both Prama and Quinn ask in unison clearly confused. I can't help but laugh at their obliviousness.

"The address. Let me guess, you guys just know this as the sandwich place two blocks down from the Stop & Shop?"

Both girls look down embarrassed. "Yeah… kind of."

"Well, naturally I did my research on this restaurant as soon as you told me about its many wonders, and the address is 150 W. Henry Street. That's the cherry on top," I explain.

A lovely blush makes its presence known on Quinn's cheeks as she gnaws her lower lip slightly. "I had heard from a few older students that I should try out this place called Aphrodite, especially if I had specific dietary restrictions. I hadn't really thought much of it until I passed by one day and noticed that it was on Henry Street. It seemed like a sign, so I came in and the rest is history. I was sort of hoping you'd notice," she finishes with a demure look on her face.

"Of course I noticed. I always notice the little things," I respond. Our eyes are connected as if they were magnets. I can't help but feel this electric tingle in the air that causes all the small hairs on my arms to prick up. Yes, she's definitely magnetic pulling every part of my body toward her. Quinn's hazels have become a stark contrast between a perfect jet black marble surrounded by bright gold. Her pink tongue darts out to lick her dark pink lips slowly, deliberately.

"Sorry, but can someone tell me what's going on," Prama says, interrupting my inner-monologue and the perfect moment we were sharing. "Is this some kind of inside thing I don't know about?"

"It's from Funny Girl," I answer.

"Yeah. Rachel's favorite movie is Funny Girl starring Barbra Streisand as a young Jewish ingénue in post-World War I New York finds the love of her life and loses him all the same to the trials and tribulations that befall lesser men because life's like that sometimes," Quinn summarizes quite succinctly and quite spectacularly, I might add.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," I compliment.

"That's because that _is_ how you describe it anytime someone asks," she says, causing me to blush. But… that means she's memorized my synopsis… my, my.

Quinn continues. "The protagonist, Fanny Brice, played by Barbra, lives on Henry Street. Thus, Henry Street's significance."

Can you believe her? She knew. She planned this even down to the address. The only thing that could top this would be bringing Barbra herself.

_Ohmygod_! Do you think she called Barbra? No. No, that'd be silly, but heck I'd believe just about anything right now from my young Fabray. What do you say in these types of situations? I've never played a character like this or in this sort of situation before.

"You're incredible."

**Prama**: I think Quinn and Rachel just had eye sex in front of me. I'm pretty sure of it. This lunch felt altogether too intimate for my taste. A square cement third wheel with nails sticking out of it. You know what I mean?

I thought these girls had it bad. I was wrong. They're beyond bad. They're meant to be. Soul mates. How can you be against something so right? You can't, that's how.

I guess all I can do now is plant the seed and hope it grows.

**Quinn**: _I'm walking on sunshine! Wooooah a wooah oh! And don't it feel good?!_

Rachel is having such a good time, I can't help but do an internal happy dance. Why can't she just stay in New Haven forever? Things would be so much better that way. I honestly can't remember the last time I felt so free and happy and just, right. No, I take that back. The last time I felt this good was when I was strapped to some poles and fabric floating over the earth like a bird, except this is better somehow. I can't describe the internal fuzziness Rachel's presence gives me and that thought alone makes me realize that I could never have her as just a friend. That she's not _just_ a friend now, if I'm being honest with myself. And remembering that I have a girlfriend and she does, too, well that just puts a damper on my mood. Speaking of the devil, she's on the phone with hers right now and Prama's taken this opportunity to interrogate me.

"Rachel is quite something, Quinn," she says with a genuine smile, and I can't help but allow a smile to grow on my face. "See. That. That right there. I've never seen you smile like that before. You look so happy and content, and that makes me happy for you."

I attempt to blow my bangs out of my face because even my lungs forget to work sometimes when I think about her. "She… Rachel and I… she makes me… ugh! Praaaamaaa, what do I do?"

Certainly the truth knower must have some sort of idea, right?

"I wish I could give you a simple answer, Quinnie, but love's not so simple. Well, at least, this situation isn't."

"I knooooow," I whine because she'll let me.

"You have strong feelings toward Rachel," she says, not really a question. I nod my head in agreement. "So why didn't you show up at the café when you had the chance? I don't think I ever figured that one out."

"What? I- I told you why already."

"No you didn't. You went home, ignored my calls, and then flippin' moved to Argentina!"

"I- look, now's not a good time to talk about it. Rachel could walk back in at any moment," I say purposefully. "But I will answer your question to the best of my ability. But right now, I can tell you I've been asking myself that question a lot lately. I don't even know if there is _an _answer." That was the truth.

She looks at me like a child who just dropped their ice cream cone. "And Celia?"

Ha. Yeah. About that. I shrug my shoulders and suck air through my teeth. "Yeaaah," I drawl out.

"Quinn!" she says sharply. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means, it means I don't have a clue! I mean with Rachel, I feel like, like my heart is on fire in the best way possible. But when I'm with Chel, it's like I'm grocery shopping while I'm hungry."

"What the hell does _that _mean? You've got to use your words and stop talking in riddles and analogies because no one knows what you mean," she says sternly.

Suddenly I feel like I'm in fourth grade again and didn't earn my little gold star on my map assignment because I labeled the entire Western Hemisphere "America."

"That's only half right, Quinn. You were asked to specifically label each continent – North America and South America. I know what you meant, but that doesn't mean people always will. Answering the question asked of you and following directions is very important. Now next time, you won't forget." She was right, I never did forget.

"Earth to Quinn," Prama says as she snaps her fingers in front of my face.

"Oh yeah. Where were we?"

"You were talking about shopping on an empty stomach or something. What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh. Well, you know how when you go to the grocery store while you're hungry, you end up buying the first thing you see, which is usually some kind of chips or cookies. That's Chel. She's kind of like my Cheetos. And when I get _hungry_, you can always count on Cheetos to fill you up, even if the calories are bad for you," I ramble.

"Ok. What the actual fuck? Did you just compare having sex with your girlfriend to reaching for a bag a Cheetos because they're food, accessible, and always on sale?" she asks for clarification, "because if you did, then that's really messed up Quinn. Damn. I hope no one ever equates having sex with me to junk food."

"Shit. That did sound pretty asshole-ish," I say only realizing the implication of what I've just said. Word vomit is not my friend.

"Does she leave your fingers orange, too? I mean with all that tanner," she mocks me as she begins to laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that was just too easy."

"Screw you, Pram."

"What did I miss that was so funny?" Rachel asks as she walks into the living room, taking a seat on the arm rest of the love seat I'm sitting on.

"Grocery shopping," Prama squeals holding her side as tears run down her face. "Oh, Rach. It was too funny. One of those you had to be there moments."

"Well I'm sorry I missed it," she says with a smile searching my eyes for the hidden meaning behind it all.

"So, what's next on the agenda?"

**Rachel**: I can _not_ believe her. Please remind me why we're dating? Christine would _not_ leave me alone while we were at lunch. She texted me a total of 11 times during our 45 minute lunch. If I were engaging her in conversation, then that would have been fine, but I wasn't. She wouldn't leave me alone, so I figured once we got back to the dorms, I would call her and put an end to her nonsense once and for all.

There I am, sitting on a well-worn leather couch in a little study nook on Quinn's floor next to a fireplace, attempting to pacify Christine. She was being irrational and quite frankly, I was not going to put up with her antics for my entire trip, so I told her so.

"Christine, please stop. You cannot continue to berate me with texts and calls while I'm out here, on the only vacation I'm going to get before rehearsals for the show start, meeting new people, and trying to have an overall good time. You see me all the time and it's not fair that you continue to distract my attention when I rarely get to see Quinn."

That's when the water works started, but I wasn't biting, so she turned a 180.

"How was lunch?"

I mean really? So I placated her and answered her truthfully.

"And her roommate was there, too?"

"Yes. Her name's Prama and she's very nice," I said.

"Prama. Is she like Hispanic or something?"

"No, she's Indian. Not that I see how that's really relevant in all of this."

"Figures. All those damn immigrants come in and take up our resources. I'm sure affirmative action had a lot to do with her being there," she said with venom lacing her tone. I could _not_ believe her.

"_Excuse me? _What did you just say? Christine Eliza Bellefleur, that has to be the single most nastiest comment you've ever made," I chastised her. "Where do you get off all high and mighty?"

"What? It's true. Don't you think she probably knocked off some white kid from the list?"

"Ok, do you _hear_ yourself? You know absolutely _zero_ about this girl, yet you jump to conclusions about her? She's in fucking _Yale_, Christine. They don't just let anyone in."

"Well, unless your brown."

"_What?! _Stop! She's a pre-med chemistry major for Pete's sake and her parents are both doctors! Her dad's a cardiovascular surgeon and her mom's a neurosurgeon."

"Oh. Well… I, I didn't know that," she said, her voice laced with guilt.

"No, of course you didn't, but how could you? You've never met her before. You know what, I'm done with this conversation. Please stop contacting me and I will contact you when I get the chance," I instructed. "And you know what, get the facts first before you publish a story."

And then I hung up on her. I was so upset. I've never seen this side of her before. Ok, breathe and calm down, I tell myself as I pinch the bridge of my nose and look skyward.

I get up and make my way back to Quinn's dorm room around the corner, smoothing out my clothing and attempting to wipe away all traces of the argument I just had. I walk in to find Prama laughing hysterically as Quinn looks around uncomfortably.

"What did I miss that was so funny?"

"Grocery shopping," Prama says practically in stiches. She can barely breathe. "Oh, Rach. It was too funny. One of those you had to be there moments."

Still, Quinn looks uncomfortable. Her hands are clenched in loose fists as her thumbs rub her forefinger, which means she's uncertain. I don't know what just happened, but after that conversation I had and the look on Quinn's face, I think we can all use a little levity.

"So, what's next on the agenda?"


	14. Chapter 14: Never Have I Ever

**A/N: Howdy all! Fell free to grab a drink and play along. Never Have I Ever has gone digital! Disclaimer - Please drink responsibly! For instance, on the couch of your home as you read this fic :)**

* * *

**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

**Chapter 14: Never Have I Ever**

**Sunny**: Hot damn! Quinn's girl is hot! I mean, like _woah!_

And by Q's girl, I mean Rachel, not Celia. I've seen pictures of Celia and while that girl is definitely every bit as beautiful as you'd expect a model to be – she's a bitch. Quinn seems to be oblivious to it, or better yet, she chooses to tolerate her behavior. I don't have a clue as to why, but from what little Quinn's told me about her, which is actually very little because she tends to ignore updating me on her real girlfriend and instead tells me all about her should-have-been girlfriend, that girl just rubs me the wrong way.

Now Rachel. How Quinn didn't show up to that coffee shop tells me that we should have had her committed because Rachel's as beautiful inside as she is outside. I don't mean to brag, but I consider myself a good judge of character, and with Rachel, you can see that she exudes goodness. I hope you don't think I'm biased because we're both vegan, but she literally wouldn't harm a fly. How could Quinn possibly think she'd hurt her? So pile on top of her good looks and great personality the ability to bring the house down with her golden voice, and this girl is like some kind of girlfriend trifecta.

Anyway, the five of us had a great time at dinner, catching up on our summers so far and how our semesters ended up. I swear Hazel's just asking for trouble with her now ex-French TA/boytoy. That relationship has crazy written all over it, but who am I to stop someone in the throws of love? I mean, we're only young once, right?

Quinn was kind of pissed when I may or may not have told our waiter that our friend Rachel was visiting us from New York and that she is a Broadway actress and that she'd be more than happy to sing happy birthday to any table that requested it. Our waiter may or may not have been really excited and began treating Rachel like royalty. While Quinn was pissed that we were going to embarrass Rachel and make her "work on her vacation," Rachel may or may not have been completely up for it and in fact relished the attention she got when she sang the most beautiful version of Happy Birthday, Susan, the 89 years young birthday girl, had ever heard in her entire life. She thanked Rachel with tears in her eyes and even offered to buy us a bottle of wine – which she declined because we're all under age, but the sentiment was appreciated nonetheless.

See, I wish I had a talent like that. If I were Rachel, I'd be singing my way out of parking tickets and having to wait in line at the post office.

Now don't get me wrong, just because we couldn't drink at the restaurant doesn't mean we aren't drinking at all. I came prepared thanks to my cousin who works in a liquor store back home. Everyone's getting changed and into something more comfortable. It's time that we all get to know each other a little bit better and what better way to do that than through drinking games?

_Bottoms up bottoms up, every single cup! Got a couple bottles, but a couple ain't enough._

**Quinn**: Of _course_ Rachel would _love_ singing for a restaurant full of people. In all the years that I've known her, when has she ever turned down an opportunity to perform? Never, that's when. But how could the restaurant not have their eyes glued to her from the moment she walked in? I told her the restaurant is a nice, but not too nice, Italian place so she should dress accordingly. Apparently, not too nice meant she should wear a short hot red romper with a slit in the back that revealed her toned back, a brown belt around her slim waist with matching brown faux-leather strappy wedges, and a black straw woven fedora with a light brown ribbon above the brim sitting on top of big loose chestnut waves of hair.

Even Prama, who's as straight as an arrow, made a comment. "Excuse my French, but _damn girl!_ You got it going _on_. I can definitely see you helping a girl switch teams dressed like that tonight."

See what I mean? And knowing what she looks like under that romper… _ugh_. Wearing a thong was the stupidest choice I could have made today, but we're back to change our clothes as we settle in for the night and have some drinks. Sunny said her cousin scored us some booze and I couldn't think of a better way to spend my Friday night than with my favorite New Haven girls and my favoritest girl above them all. I really want them all to hit it off.

Also, do you think Rachel knows French? Probably not. I need to stop thinking about it.

What do you think I should wear? Not that I'm trying to impress Rachel or anything, but merely for comfort's sake, of course.

Did you buy that? Whatever, just help me, will you?

My choices are, one, short Cheerios shorts and tee, you know, for old times' sake. Two, some short Victoria's boxer shorts and a ribbed white tank top. Or three, a silk negligee, but I think that'd be pretty inappropriate to the other girls. Damn. I'll just stick to choice number one. Now where are those knee-length tube socks with the red and blue stripes up at the top?

**Hazel**: Quinn and Rachel are adorable! Oh, hey I'm Hazel by the way. I'm not sure if we've met. Anyway, Quinn's really going all out for Rachel, it's kind of really cute. Even though we went to Skappo, Quinn got all dolled up in this super cute and sexy white dress and spent extra time on her hair. She literally looked like a one of those sexy Victoria's Secret angels, well, at least what I imagine they look like with clothes on. I was surprised that Rachel got dressed up, too. They made us look like the frumpy step-sisters in Cinderella, but anyone with eyes can see that these beautiful ladies have a spark between them that is the definition of adoration.

That's how I feel about Guy. Don't believe a word any of these other gals say. Guy and I may have a _special_ relationship, but it's ours and that's all that matters. That's exactly what I tell Quinn all the time. Her thing with Rachel is what it is, and isn't what it's not. Only they can decide what they want to do, or don't want to do. Is it any of our business? Well, insofar as being friends and giving her constructive advice, yes, but not beyond that. Do I think she should break up with her girlfriend… part of me says yes because she doesn't seem very nice, but another part of me says who am I to say? I can handle having two boyfriends, but that's because neither of them are ever super serious. Now with Guy, well, he's an exception and I've decided not to date other people. But maybe I'm not the person to ask about this kind of thing. _Je vois la vie en rose._

**Rachel**: Quinn looked absolutely wonderful tonight at dinner and, as always, I received a standing ovation from our restaurant after I sang Happy Birthday to the lovely Miss Susan. Today has been such a great day, aside from that horrible telephone conversation. After speaking, or arguing, rather, with Bellefleur, I thought it'd be great if we all relaxed a bit and got mani/pedis. I fell asleep in my chair as my feet were soaking. It's almost hard not to when they have the back massager on and not to mention the bubbles and jets of warm water that tickle your feet. It's positively heavenly, but not as heavenly as waking up from a quick slumber to find the most beautiful hazel eyes watching you from their chair right next to yours.

"Hi," I said as I blinked looking into hazel eyes.

"Hi, back," she said as a gorgeous smile graced her face.

"Did I doze off?" I asked, somewhat embarrassed that I fell asleep in the five minutes my feet had to soak before my pedicurist came back.

Her cheekbones look so gorgeous when she smiles. "Just a bit, but you looked so peaceful. I think you needed it. Especially after that bus ride," she said in a voice just above a whisper – like a lover's secret.

"Thank you for not waking me. I think a cat nap was exactly what I needed. I should be good for the rest of the day," I said matching her tone.

"Please, ma'am. Can I have your left foot?" asked the short Asian woman waiting patiently for me to comply to begin the pedicure, bursting whatever intimate bubble we had just been sharing.

"Sorry," I said facing forward and extending my left foot.

Now we find ourselves back at Saybrook within the comfortable confines of the girls' suite. I must say the view from up here is gorgeous and allows you to see almost all of the campus. Quinn said to dress down into something comfy because we're going to spend the rest of our night drinking and talking, which I couldn't be more excited for. I can't wait to get to know these girls a little better. Thus far, Prama is very nice and has a subtle sense of humor that you have to listen out for because she's so quiet. Hazel reminds me somewhat of Brittany, except with a Southern accent and more travelled. At first I thought, so close-mindedly of me I'm sorry to say, that because she spoke slowly, then she must think… well, I was wrong. So wrong. She ran to her laptop as soon as we got home to Skype with Marie, her best friend from Paris whom she met while studying abroad. Sunny and Prama stuck around to say hi to her. As soon as Hazel answered the call, her Southern accent was thrown out the window for a beautiful, confident, and natural French one. I guess that's what I get for judging a book by its cover.

"_Bonjour, Marie!_" she said with a smile.

"_Bonjour, Hazel! Quoi de neuf?_" said the very chic girl with the blue pixie cut on the screen.

"_Pas beaucoup. Prama et Sunny sont ici. Voulez-vous dire salut?_" Hazel asks.

"_Bien sûr! Salut. _I hope you are both having a wonderful summer vacation." Marie says in greeting, switching to English when she knows the girls would have reached their French limit.

"Hi, Marie!" Prama says excitedly.

"_Bonjour, Marie_," Sunny says as she waves easily into the camera.

"_C'est mon autre colocataire, Quinn, et son petite amie…"_ at this, Quinn shot Hazel a death glare. "_… excusez-moi, _amie_, Rachel_," Hazel corrected.

I had no idea what just happened, but I heard my name and _amie_, which I know means "friend" so I wave into the monitor. I heard _petite_, which I think means little. "Little friend" is one way of describing me, I suppose.

"_Bonjour, Marie. Je suis enchantée de te rencontrer_," Quinn says with a smile.

Holy Mother! Did you know Quinn could speak French? I think that has to be _the_ sexiest thing I've _ever_ heard in my life. Ever.

"Quinn! Since when do you speak French?" I ask in complete shock.

At this point, Hazel's engrossed in a conversation with Marie, so we make our way to Quinn's room. "Well, I took one Spanish class with Mr. Schue and it was an absolute waste. So junior year I decided to take some French classes and I still remember a bit."

"Well I, my dear, am thoroughly impressed. Is there nothing Quinn Fabray can't do?" I ask flirtatiously.

"Go get changed and we'll find out," she says back cryptically, yet with a smile.

**Santana**: I give it two nights, tops, before Berry and Q do the nasty or at least make out. Damn, it's about time. Come on, you wanna take that bet? $10. It's easy money. Double down if it happens on the first night.

**Prama**: I like Rachel for Quinn. It's like Quinn's a better happier person when she's around. It doesn't hurt that their chemistry, _pun intended_, is off the charts. They go together like hydrogen and two oxygens, like sodium and chloride, or like the beauty that is my favorite xanthine alkaloid, C8H10N4O2. We've currently just polished off a bottle of Effen vodka much to Hazel and Sunny's excitement over a game of Waterfall or King's Cup, as Rachel insisted it was properly named. So I'm pretty sure, and don't quote me on this, but I think we all have a good little buzz going on.

Rachel and Quinn have been eye sexing and touching each other every now and then when they think none of us are paying attention, but hello! They're here for _our_ amusement. They're the show for the weekend. Of _course_ we're going to be watching. Silly girls.

Where was I? Oh yeah! We're about to start a game of Never Have I Ever. Have you ever played that? If you have, then you have to drink! See? Easy enough.

"What are the house rules, ladies?" Sunny asks as she pours her whatever concoction she just mixed for all of us into our respective glasses.

"Wait! You didn't take the little man off the cup before you poured! Drink up bitch," Hazel a-has triumphantly.

"Chill, Hazel. Those rules don't last all night. That was the last game sweetie. Come on now, keep up," Sunny retorts.

"Ok, yeah, house rules. Let's see. Ok, well we're obviously starting with 10 fingers," Quinn begins as we all nod our head in agreement. "Um, no self-sabotaging questions. I hate it when people say things that get themselves out. That's not the point of the game."

"Ok, it's whatevs," Hazel throws out there.

"If you get caught in a lie, you have to lose another finger and drink twice," I add.

"Ok, anything else? Can you gain back fingers?" Rachel asks.

"Hmm, I've never thought of that. Umm… yeah! You can get a finger back if you asked the question and everyone had to drink, but nothing stupid like 'never have I ever eaten cheese' or something like that," Sunny says definitively.

"Yay!" Hazel says excitedly as she claps her hands. "Let's get started. Prama, you go first."

Oh great, make the innocent one go first. This'll be fun.

**Hazel**: "Ok, I'm going to start things off easy, ok?" Prama asks.

Poor Prama. I don't know why we even bother with this game when we all know Prama's going to win. Oh wait. Yes I do. Because it's hella fun!

Everyone has their hands up with their fingers splayed out waiting on the edge of their seat for Prama to kick off the game.

"Never have I ever… cursed at a teacher," Prama finishes excitedly, looking around to watch for the first person to drink.

"Wait, do you mean cursed at a teacher like to tell them off, or to like say a bad word in front of them?" I ask.

Quinn and Sunny give me this look.

"What? It's important to know?" I say back to their judgmental looks.

"True that," Sunny concedes.

"Oh, well, um, I guess I meant I've never told off or called a teacher a bad name. So, I mean, I've never cursed at one in malice," Prama clarifies.

"'Cursed at one in malice?' Really Prama? You haven't had enough to drink," Sunny says through a laugh while she takes a drink and puts down a finger. I do the same and so does Quinn.

Recap: Prama = 10; Quinn = 9; Rachel =10; Sunny = 9; and 9 for me.

"Darn! I almost got an extra finger," Prama said with a playful sulk.

"That's what _she_ said!" Sunny screams out.

_Oh my God, that was a good one!_ I'm trying to put my drink down on the table without knocking anything over through my tears as everyone dies with laughter and Prama becomes the reddest I've ever seen her.

"Have you met our friend Santana? You'd love her," Rachel says as she points to Sunny conspiratorially.

"No but from what I hear, she sounds like a piece of work," Sunny says with a smile, "in the best sense of course."

"Ok, ok, ok, let's get this show back on the road," I say trying to keep everyone focused here. Gosh they're worse than 5 year-olds. "My turn." Ok… let's think about this one Haze. _Got it!_ "Alright, y'all are gonna have to drink up bitches," I say as I point to Quinn and Rachel. "Never have I ever sang on stage. Boom!"

As predicted, Quinn and Rachel groan.

"Hey, that's not fair. That's my livelihood," Rachel says with a pout.

"Just because you're cute when you pout doesn't mean you can get away without taking a drink sweetheart. Come on now, put that finger down and take a drink," I tease.

Prama takes a drink as well. "My parents put me in talent shows when I was little," she explains nonchalantly.

Recap: Prama = 9; Quinn = 8; Rachel = 9; Me = 9; Sunny = 9

"Alright, Sun, you're up," I say handing over the quizzical reigns to Sunny.

"Right. Time to spice things up. Never have I ever used a condom for sex," she says as she squints her eyes and throws her head back doing her best at an evil professor cackle while she rubs her hands. "Too easy, Buster!"

"You wish," Quinn says as she keeps all 8 fingers up. "I didn't have the immaculate conception for a reason."

"_Ohmuhgawd!_ Quinn you did _not _just say that!" Prama said in disbelief. "And why did you say 'for sex?'"

"Cover your virgin ears, Pram! Hey Rach, you need to drink up," Quinn finishes.

"Because condoms make hella funny balloons," Sunny answers as if this is the most logical thing in the world or their actual purpose.

Rachel looks down demurely. "No I don't."

"What? Of course you do. Didn't you use protection with Finn?" Quinn asks with rapt curiosity.

"No, we didn't have to," she half answers.

"Rachel, that's so dangerous! You could have gotten pregnant. Did you learn nothing from my situation?" Quinn says slightly angry but with the best intentions. The concern of a mama bear, if you will.

"No I couldn't have. People assumed that we… _did it_… after my amazing rendition of Maria in McKinley's _West Side Story_ but the truth is we never did. Well, as I'm sure you're aware, Finn has always had… performance issues, and that night was no exception. And also, while I appreciated his efforts in cooking me a homemade meal, he used actual bacon in my meal that night. So his deficiency plus my stomach ache lent itself to a not-so-romantic night that was never meant to be regardless of the public's belief," Rachel explains at length.

Man, for being buzzed, she talks better than I normally do on a good day. I blame it on the French. The better my French gets, the worse my English.

"I- I, wow. I had no idea. I thought-" Quinn tried to say.

"Well that's because you only hear what you want to hear. I've tried telling you a few times, but I guess you never heard me," Rachel says as she takes a drink anyway.

"It's okay that you didn't. I'm sorry, I should have listened to you better," Quinn attempted to explain to smooth things over.

"Quinn," Rachel says with a smile, "You have nothing to be sorry about. What would you have said, 'Thanks for taking my advice?' It's not really important."

Recap: Prama = 8; Quinn = 8; Rachel = 8; me = 9; Sunny = 9

"Q, it's your turn," I say as I attempt to get the game moving again. At this rate, we're never going to finish.

"Sure. Sorry, Rach," Quinn says with a smile, "Never have I ever lived in New York City."

"Quinn, that's pure evil! Cheap shot. You know, two can play at that game," the short brunette says as she quickly knocks back her drink. "Sunny, I'm gonna need a refill here soon."

"I'll make another batch for everyone. I'm kind of running low, too," Sunny says as she gets up to mix us another shaker full of tequila sunrises.

Recap: Prama = 8; Quinn = 8; Rachel = 7; me = 9; Sunny = 9

"My turn," Rachel says forcefully. "Never have I ever lived in Argentina. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Fabray!" she says poking Quinn in the chest.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Quinn says as she takes a drink. "You're up Prama Mama."

Recap: Prama = 8; Quinn = 7; Rachel = 7; me = 9; Sunny = 9

"Dang Quinn, you're losing this one fast," Sunny says as she comes back immediately topping off Rachel's drink.

"Prama Mama? Someone's had a bit much, Quinn. Ok, never have I ever… kissed a girl!" she finishes with a squeal.

"That's weird," Sunny deadpans.

As if on cue, the four of us reach for our glasses and take a drink.

"Hazel?" Quinn asks.

"I grew up in the sticks where bonfires were a rite of passage and I lived in Paris for fuck's sake," I answer. "Whoops! Pardon my French," I say sarcastically covering my mouth in fake embarrassment.

"I get a finger back," Prama says as she does a little dance in her chair.

"You're missing out Prams," Sunny says.

"Agreed," say Quinn and Rachel in unison while looking into each others' eyes. Could they be any more obvious?

"Would you both care to demonstrate," I tease.

"Yeah!" agrees Sunny.

Rachel looks down at her fingers suddenly. "Ha. Ha. In your dreams," Quinn evades.

"Worth a shot," I say.

Recap: Prama = 9; Quinn = 7; Rachel = 6; me = 8; Sunny = 8

Time to smoke out the hive. It's my turn. "Never have I ever denied myself what my heart truly wants."

"Uh… Guy! You're a dare devil, girl," Prama says to me.

"That's a tough one. I mean, who hasn't at some point in time?" ponders Sunny.

Quinn and Rachel slam a drink back roughly avoiding eye contact. Sunny follows suit reluctantly.

Recap: Prama = 9; Quinn = 6; Rachel = 5; me = 8; Sunny = 7

**Sunny**: Man, Rachel and Quinn have some serious history. It's like, you can see it in their faces, they want each other, there's no question about that, but they won't let themselves have the other. That's rough. But how far can we push them until reason slaps them in the face so that they see that that's the only inevitable answer? Apparently, 3 screwdrivers and a tequila sunrise wasn't enough.

"Hold up, hold up, time out!" I say. "This is fun and all, but I think we need to up the ante. I'm grabbing the bottle. We're doing shots now, bitches. And it's my turn, so you have to wait for me anyway."

"Hurry the hell up," Quinn says from the living room as I cut up some limes onto a plate and grab the salt shaker.

"Q, I know I don't have to show you how to do this. Rach, you good?" I check.

"Please, don't worry about me," she says confidently with a wink. _Dang_ this girl has sex appeal. Quinn's in trouble tonight.

"Alright, pass them around. Ready? Never have I ever cheated on a significant other."

"Wait, define cheat," Rachel says with all seriousness.

"Well, to me, even emotional relationships are cheating so, yeah. Anything more than platonic feelings for the another person other than your current squeeze," I say.

"What? That's crazy talk. Cheating is only a physical thing. You can look," Hazel says as she runs her hands up her body, "but keep your hands off of the merchandise."

"Well which is it?" Rachel asks impatiently.

"My definition because it's my turn," I answer.

"Boo you're no fun… or maybe you are!" Hazel says as she licks her hand, pours some salt, licks it, and knocks back her shot like a fucking pro, sticking the lime wedge in her mouth.

"You suck, Sunny," Quinn says as she holds her nose with her left hand and takes her shot as if it tastes like motor oil.

"You love me and you know it," I say back.

Recap: Prama = 8; Quinn = 5; Rachel = 4; Hazel = 7; me = 7

"Prama, did you drink? When did you cheat?" Rachel observes.

"Senior year of high school. My parents had me in a relationship with a friend's son, you know a kind of arranged thing, and while we like never saw each other outside of family/friend get togethers, he was technically my boyfriend… but I had a boyfriend of my own. So I suppose I was technically cheating on at least one of them."

"Dude that sucks," I say with sympathy.

"Yeah, it did, but after that burned down in flames, my parents apologized and gave me free rein to date whoever I wanted," she says with a smile.

"Cool, cool. Um… Rach, it's your turn," I continue.

"Never have I ever watched the sunrise with a boyfriend or girlfriend," she says wistfully.

"Aww, poor thing," Hazel says as she pours herself a shot. "Not even with your current girlfriend?"

Quinn sits up straighter at the mention of Rachel's girlfriend.

"Nope, never," Rachel answers.

"Huh, well, it'll happen someday. I know it will," Prama says as she sloppily takes her shot.

Recap: Prama = 7; Quinn = 5; Rachel = 4; Hazel = 6; me = 6

"Never have I ever been so drunk I blacked out?" Quinn offers.

"Then you haven't lived yet. You're in college aren't you?" I tease her as I take a shot. "Hell, make it a double."

Recap: Prama = 7; Quinn = 5; Rachel = 3; Hazel = 5; me = 5

"Damn, I'm losing!" Rachel says with only three fingers remaining.

"You're up, Prama," I remind the short stuff as she fights to keep her eyes open.

"Oh yeah!" she says, suddenly rejuvenated. "Never have I ever… been in love."

I reached for my shot glass as did Hazel, but Rachel and Quinn turned to each other and stared into the other's eyes, searching for something I couldn't see. Then, as if they found what they looked for, Rachel gave a shy smile and reached for her glass and Quinn followed suit, taking their shots at the same time never once breaking eye contact.

_Damn_.

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**A/N: Also, please forigve my French. It's not my native tongue. Please let me know if it needs any corrections in a PM. I won't be the slightest bit offended.**


	15. Chapter 15: Lines

**A/N: It's been a looong time since an update, but yes, I'm still alive and so is this story. At least it's really long - like two chapters worth, so I hope the length makes up for it. If you're still reading this, thanks for reading :)**

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**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

**Chapter 15: Lines**

**Rachel**: What do you do when something feels so right, but you know that giving into it will be so wrong, so against the person you have always thought you were… are? I wish I knew.

I watched my first sunrise this morning with Quinn. Her window faces east and after each roommate eventually made their way to bed, after all of the laughing and talking, Quinn suggested we turn around on our beds and enjoy the sunrise. I propped up my suitcase on my bed with some pillows on top so that I could lean back and enjoy the sun's morning salutation completely free of any physical strain – utter perfectness. I could tell Quinn was straining herself a bit, so I suggested she join me. We sat in silence as the night sky became an ombre array of colors. Twilight, some would call it. Dark blue transitioned to a purple-bluish color, then blue-purple-pink, then purple-pink-orange. The clouds were happy tufts of cotton candy in the sky as a bright yellowish-red halo broke the horizon, a prelude to the bright deep orange globe it surrounded. It was the happiest pumpkin I've ever seen.

Usually you can't stare into the sun for more than a second or two at best, but this daybreak sun is different. I stared for what seemed like minutes into the magnificently orange yolk. I strained my ears in hopes that I could hear this brilliant giant's effect on the world around me. Maybe I heard what I wanted to hear, but it was as if the world was waking up all at once. An excited buzz could be felt and heard in the form of rustling leaves and sporadic bird songs, but even more perfect was the sound I heard next to me. Quinn had fallen asleep, one hand on my arm, the other resting gently across her stomach and in that moment I thought I had never seen a more beautiful sight. My second thought was, a person in a healthy committed relationship doesn't think those kinds of things, but I could give a damn because something this amazing could never be wrong. Something this strong has to be right, lest it be the cruelest of life's jokes.

I didn't have the heart to wake her. Sleep had so overtaken her that even the easing away of my suitcase beneath her only caused a slight incoherent mumble and caused her to grasp onto me tighter. Pardon me while I never complain about that.

Now, staring across into her sleeping face, she looks content. Her nose slightly flares with each inhalation, her eyes roaming behind their keepers like a pair of skillful hands kneading dough.

"You're _my_ perfect thing," I whisper shutting my eyes. If only I could be brave enough to say that when it matters. "Mine."

**Prama**: Rachel's my newest favorite. I'm kind of irked that Quinn hasn't brought her over sooner, but she promised she'd visit us at least once during the semester. She understands my love of lentils unlike Sunny who swears that pinto beans are the superior legume. Pfft, _whatever!_ As if.

Oh, yeah, I'm sure she wants to see Quinn, too, but that's a given. I want to wake them up already so that we can start our day and hit those row boats, but I have no idea what time they eventually dragged themselves to sleep. It's probably best I let them wake up on their own… or when _we_ decide they're ready to wake up.

"Hey _Oprama_, we have anymore juice? Otherwise known as an orange, apple, grape, mango, or pineapple that's been mashed to smithereens?" Sunny asks from her open bedroom door.

"Original. Did you think of that all by yourself? We do, but I ain't cho mama so come gittit ya self, Valenzeula!"

"Ouch. You're so hardcore, Prama. I love it when you channel your inner Minaj," my Hispanic friend yells back from her room.

Ohhhh, just like the good ole days. I wouldn't move out for anything.

**Quinn**: She's so… breathtaking. I think that's the best way to describe her. At least, that's the only way I _can_ describe her. She elicits physical reactions from me, save for the ability to speak.

I woke up nearly 5 minutes ago now holding Rachel in Prama's bed, which she so generously gave up for the weekend, all things considering. Waking up to Rachel's lithe warm body beneath my arms felt so right, it was as if I was jumping off that cliff once more – weightlessness. Except… no, this is better. Infinitely better. Now if only I can figure out how to freeze this moment and keep her here as my… my person. My Rachel. Mine to keep, to hold, to love, and to wake up to in the morning. Every morning.

Her brow furrows slightly and the softest whimper fills my ears as she adjusts herself slightly, her hand grasping onto my shirt only to release it just as quickly, now brushing her fingers feather-softly on my exposed stomach. A thousand goose bumps react to her touch, my body's reflex to all things Rachel, and I can't help but shudder at my skin's sudden realization that the hand I've been dreaming of is right here, right now. Dreams coming to life. Fiction into reality.

Does. Not. Compute. My poor brain must be short-circuiting. _Petrificus totalus!_

Her blunt nails rake across my tender flesh gently as her eyes slowly open, searching for mine. The sun isn't playing fair today as an horizontal beam of light streams through a window shade, illuminating her mouth, and only her mouth, exquisitely.

"You ok, babe?" Rachel asks in a sleep-filled raspy whisper.

I'm still frozen, kind of. I try to nod my head yes. _Nod, head! Move!_

"You were so stiff all of the sudden," she says as she rubs my exposed skin with her full palm now as if we were always so liberal with our caresses. "You still are. Are you sure, Quinn?"

"Babe?" I manage to ask, immediately regretting my idiotic need to categorize everything and smack a simple label on it. _Fuck, it probably just slipped and now I've fucked it all to hell!_

But she bats her impossibly long lashes at me and smiles bashfully as her hand reaches to pull the hem of my shirt down, easily resting her hand on my hip, the top of her pinky finger dipping below the elastic band of my shorts ever so slightly. It's the smallest of touches that could have gone unnoticed, except I'm not wearing any underwear, so she's touching my skin directly and if anything, has only made things worse. A few inches goes a long way. Does she have _any_ idea what she's doing to me? It's way too early to have a thousand butterflies threatening to spill from my stomach as the fallacy of ignoring the pressure between my legs has been obliterated.

"Does that bother you?"

_She's still looking for acceptance… I thought she knew what she means to me…_

"Not in the way you're probably thinking," I start softly, as I stare intently into her eyes. I need her to understand that I'm telling the truth. The vulnerability behind her gorgeous brown… no, chestnut eyes, with flecks of mahogany and black towards the center, makes me want to kiss her senseless and make everything right in the world.

"Too cryptic this early," she says with a smile, but is given away by her delicate eyes. She clearly doesn't understand my meaning.

"Hey," I say gently as I squeeze the hand resting on my hipbone, "You have no idea just how much… just- Ok. Stop, Quinn, let's get ourself together." _Breathe, Fabray._ "Rachel, please don't think for a second that I would have a problem with you calling me – whatever you want to, quite frankly."

She smirks playfully and plunges her entire pinky below my shorts this time. _Oh Lord grant me the strength…_

"What I meant to say was, and you'll probably think it's stupid anyway-"

"Never," she interjects resolutely.

Rachel Berry could never not make me smile. "I don't know if this is too forward, but what I meant was, the only reason it would bother me isn't because I _don't_ want you to call me babe, but because I want to be the _only _person you call that."

_Look away Fabray. You don't need to see that sad look on her face_.

"Hey," she says as she scratches at my hip oh so seductively. "Look at me."

I'm her slave. I will never disobey her again. "Selfish, huh?"

"No, it's honest. Please, let's not ruin this weekend by bringing up other people. This is me," she points to her herself, "Rachel Barbra Berry, and you," she squeezes me again and a slight moan involuntarily escapes my mouth, "Lucy Quinn 'my favorite' Fabray. I don't want to think about anyone but you, and I'm not. It's _just_ you. Do you hear me?"

_Fuck, if she keeps squeezing me like that…_

"Y-yeah, I just, I – I only think about you, too," I confess softly. I can't help but stare at the delicious target that nature has seemingly intended me to be drawn to. "Would it be bad if I said that I really wanted to kiss you right now?"

Rachel's eyes dart to my mouth and I instinctively lick my lips slowly. Her tongue mimics mine.

"Quinn," she hushes out, laced with desire.

"ALRIGHT, TIME TO WAKE UP LADIES!"

**Sunny**: "Sunny, let's wake them up! I want to go rowing already! It's 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I don't care what time they went to sleep, we've given them plenty of rest. Come on, come on! What do you say?" Prama says as she impatiently scrolls through her Tumblr dashboard for the nth time this morning.

"Woah, Prams! I vote that you're way too hyper to wake them up. Why don't you make them some cereal or something and I'll wake them up? Sound cool? And we're going canoeing, btw." I answer.

"What about me?" Hazel asks.

"You can double check our gear."

She thinks it over quickly. "Okay!"

Damn, you'd think it was Christmas morning or something with the way these girls are acting. For a quick second I think my shoes are way too loud on our wooden floors as I walk down the hall to Quinn's room, but then again, waking them up is kind of my purpose. Her doorknob is cold as it turns easily.

"ALRIGHT, TIME TO WAKE UP LADIES!"

_Woah, shit. What the fuck did I just walk in on?_

"Oh. Hey, sorry. My bad," I say quietly, averting my eyes to that random green stain on the northerly wall that we made during a Gak fight our first semester. I may have just walked in on something, but there's no need to alarm the others.

"Sun," Quinn says evenly. "What's up?"

_What's up? Shouldn't she be pissed and throwing a shoe at me to get out and to go fuck myself or stop being a clitblock?_

Rachel's hand moves slowly, but their close proximity doesn't change.

_Where the heck was that hand just now exactly? Oh, my eyes!_

"I uh… it's 1 o'clock. The girls wanted me to get you both up so that we can go rowing but it looks like…" I trail off slightly. The look in Quinn's eyes is one I have never seen before and then, I just kind of get it. They're figuring their shit out and I kind of just ruined their little bubble moment. Man, I'm a jackass. "… you two are still asleep and we should probably go on without you so we don't miss our reservation. Right?"

"Exactly. Thank you for your discretion, Sunny," Rachel says quietly.

"No worries. I get it," I say as I close the door quietly and tread lightly down the hallway.

"So? Did you get those lazies up?" Prama asks excitedly as she pours some kind of Chex cereal into two bowls.

"Nah. They were still asleep. We should just go on without them. Plus, we don't want to miss our reservation time."

"What? Man, that sucks, but oh well. I want to get my tan on in a boat, so come on. Let's hop to it! Chop chop! Prama, you didn't put milk in the cereal yet, so just leave it," Hazel says with finality. "I didn't buy a new bikini for nothing!"

"Prama, don't pout. The people you should be pouting at aren't here," I say lightly.

"Fine, fine, fine. Looks like it'll just be the Dream Team this time," she says as she stands on her tippy toes to throw her arms around our shoulders with a smile.

"Oprama. Stop trying to make the Dream Team happen, you weirdo!" Hazel says through a laugh.

"Sunny got you calling me that, too? And shut up, you love it! Admit it! Besides, I already made us shirts and a facebook page, so there's no takebacks now. It's facebook official. In. The. Face!"

"It's 'in _your _face,'" Hazel corrects.

"Read a book for once. That's from _Coming to America_, best Eddie Murphy movie ever, which, is also a fact," Prama smarts back.

"Great, Hazel. You got her started on Eddie Murphy. What'd you have to go and do that for?"

I push her jokingly out the door. I wouldn't trade these girls for the world.

**Rachel**: "Rowing? We were going rowing?"

Bashful Quinn is so adorably sexy.

"Rach, that's all you got from that? That was really close," Quinn says with a slightly pained expression.

"Sweetie, it was just Sunny. She handled it with grace and quite frankly, I trust her to keep what she saw, or didn't see, to herself. Don't you?"

Quinn breathes out heavily as her brow furrows deeper. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What exactly was 'close' about that, Quinn? Because from what I remember, nothing had happened… yet. And it's not like it would be the first time Sunny ever saw two girls kiss, right? I think it would take more than that to scar her for life," I tease with a smile.

Quinn's scowl disappears as the right side of her mouth quirks up into a gorgeous half-smile that not even Finn could touch with a candle on his best day. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right."

"Of course I'm right. Now, this rowing. Tell me about it," I say bringing her back to our original conversation.

"Ok. Well, I guess we were going to go canoeing, not rowing," Quinn begins.

"Semantics. Please continue."

"No, there's a difference. One you hold a detached paddle, the other an oar that's attached to the boat," she says laced with sarcasm.

"Quinn. Are you going to tell me this story or not? Because I'm pretty sure I can still go catch the girls if I leave now," I threaten as I turn around and point over my shoulder.

"Fine fine fine. So yeah, we were going to go canoeing on the Quinnipiac. I had seen some geese around… and I thought it could kind of be like the Notebook, minus the gorgeous weeping willows," she says with a smile.

"The _Quinn_ipiac? You wanted me to go get sweaty and wet on the _Quinn_-something river? Not on the first date, _Quinn_ie. What kind of girl do you take me for?" I say with mock horror on my face.

Her laugh bubbles as her eyes widen comically. "Oh my gosh! I didn't even think of it that way. I didn't mean it like that! You have to believe me, Rach!"

"You're too beautiful, you know that? It hurts me sometimes," I say as my subconscious rears its head.

"_Hurts_ you? And have you _seen _yourself, Rachel Berry?"

"Well damn. I can't believe I said that out loud, but yes it hurts me. You make me just want to… I don't know, squeeze you and never let you go. I want to show you how beautiful you are all the time and to make sure you believe it. I don't care that you think that having a baby made you an iota less beautiful than you were before. If anything, it made you more beautiful in my eyes and as you age, we age, your features are just-"

"That's because you haven't seen me naked," Quinn cuts me off somberly in an attempt to argue as her hazels dart past my shoulder.

"Well, maybe not completely, but I think I've seen enough, thanks to our impromptu fashion show. And do _not_ pretend you didn't know what you were doing, Fabray. All about the teasing, right?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was far away and the camera's not that great, but just because you didn't see my stretch marks doesn't mean-"

"Quinn Fabray. Enough self-deprecation," I pull myself up and lift her tank top and lower her shorts over her hip tastefully, "Do you want to know what I see? I see gorgeous creamy skin that beckons me to worship it with kisses so strongly I have to fight every muscle in my body not to give into it. That… and, why Ms. Fabray? Are you commando right now? With a _lady_ in your bed no less?"

"One, this isn't my bed. Two, yes I am. It's comfy. And three… do you really not see them?"

I stare into her hazel eyes as I move further down the bed, hovering over her legs, and connect my lips to the skin I covet so fiercely, peppering her with kisses. Her body tenses before me, before she relaxes and moans her appreciation. _This is the most erotic experience of my life_.

I can't help but be reminded of a song. I give one last long kiss, restore her clothing to their proper positions, and make my way to hold her hands and lay face to face with the captor of my heart. And I do what I do best, I sing to her, softly, hoping that music can express how I feel better than I can in this moment.

_All of these lines across my face_

_Tell you the story of who I am_

_So many stories of where I've been_

_And how I got to where I am_

_But these stories don't mean anything_

_When you've got no one to tell them to_

_It's true… I was made for you._

A tear streams down Quinn's cheek and in this moment, I believe it. I was made for her.

**Prama**: I _loved_ canoeing! It's simply the bee's knees! If you haven't tried it, you must and I'll just leave it at that. I can't believe those lazy asses didn't wake up this morning. I hope that they put everyone out of their misery and hooked up already. I don't know how much more sexual tension I can swim through before I drown! _And_ I gave back my life preserver!

**Quinn**: "Am I really your perfect thing?"

I have to ask. I swear I heard her say that _I _was her perfect thing this morning, but I can't be sure. I _have_ to know.

"Wh-what? You heard that? You were awake?" She asks as she throws another piece of bread at the ducks that have congregated around us, staring straight ahead never once looking at me.

"I may have had my eyes closed, but I was awake enough to hear you, I think."

I watch her drop her hands down between her knees and stare at the remnants of our bread roll. She's thinking and I can see her debating with herself internally.

"So… did you mean it? Assuming you actually even said it, that is. Because if you did I don't know-"

"Yes," Rachel says as she finds my hand and squeezes it gently yet firmly enough to show me she's not going anywhere. "Yes I did, and to be quite honest, I'm glad you weren't asleep yet. I'm glad you heard me because it's the truth, Quinn. I'm not always brave enough to say what I mean when it matters the most, you know."

She's using the very same words I said to her years ago outside the choir room and I can't help but smile.

"You remember everything, don't you?"

"Perhaps," she says with a smile. "But it's the truth. You mean so much to me, Quinn. It's so clear to me how you make me feel. What's unclear is what I should do about it. You have Celia… and I'm with Christine. Why can't I ever get it right?"

I can't help but sigh.

"Celia… about her. Rach, things are complicated-"

"I know. Please don't say it. I like living in a blissful world where it's just you and me. Where things are right and we don't have to worry about anyone else that may be waiting for us in New York. So please, don't."

"Ok, but I think we _can_ – get it right. Someday."

"Wait, does that mean that you don't think you've gotten it right either?" She inquires hopefully.

I shake my head no. "Nope. Not yet, but I think I'm getting closer to it."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that."

**Hazel**: "Truth or dare, Sunny!"

"Guys, it's Rachel's last night. Can't we take it easy?" Prama requests politely.

"No way! That's the whole point, Prama. We're gonna send her off on a bang!" Sunny shouts as she makes an explosion with her hands. "And I'll take truth."

"Have you ever touched a penis sexually?" I ask because, hey, you never know.

"Can you touch a penis non-sexually? Whatever. The answer's no. Never touched a real one and I don't ever intend to, thank you very much," she says as she takes a shot.

"You don't take a drink unless you don't answer the question or do the dare, Sun," Rachel reminds her through a chuckle.

"I know, but I'm an open book, so if I don't, I'll be sober all night and what fun is that?"

"Fair enough," Rachel says.

"Truth or dare, Rae Rae," Sunny asks with squinted eyes.

"Dare," Rachel says boldly.

Sunny smiles mischievously. "I dare you to take two double shots. Ha!"

"That's not fair, Sonia Valenzuela," Quinn says in her teacher voice.

"Chill mama bear. The girl's practically begging for it. There's no shame in kick-starting our night a bit. And besides, something tells me you'll be thanking me for it later," Sunny says. "No harm meant by it."

"Oh goodness, Quinn. Didn't she sound like Noah for a second?"

"Kind of. That's creepy. But you can't take that much alcohol at once Rachel, it's not safe. I'll drink one of your doubles," Quinn offers.

"Excuse me, but I'm a big girl Quinn and I think I know my own alcohol limit. Sunny's right. Let's have some fun tonight," she says with a wink as she licks her palm and grabs the salt shaker. "Can I borrow your hand Quinn? I wanna do these shots back-to-back."

This is precious. Rachel's totally going for it tonight and Quinn looks like she's about to pass out or hump Rachel's leg like a dog… although I'm not really sure that there's much of a difference at this point.

"Let me grab you another shot glass," I offer.

Rachel takes Quinn's extended right hand and turning it palm down, slowly licks the top of her hand, and gingerly sprinkles it with salt. Quinn's watching with rapt attention and licking her own lips.

"Hot," Sunny says flatly.

"I'm ready. You ready, Quinn?" Rachel intones. Quinn nods her head and gulps laboriously.

"To my upcoming show," Rachel cheers as she licks her hand, lifts her first double shot into the air, taps it against the table, tosses it back with a grimace, and quickly reaches for her lime wedge. "To you," Rachel directs to Quinn as she sucks the back of my roommate's hand, lifts the second shot into the air, taps it against the table, and tosses it back like a fucking boss, and takes the awaiting lime wedge from Quinn's other hand making sure she sucks her fingers as well in the process.

Quinn let out an audible whimper and if _I_ were her, I'd be dragging Rachel onto any surface immediately. The floor, this table, a bed, hell even a beanbag would do. _Note to self, call Guy._

"Shit, that was hot," Sunny says mesmerized. "Damnit, I need a girlfriend," she says dejected.

"My turn. Dare." Quinn dictates.

"Woah!" Rachel exclaims. "Let me get my bearings for a second," she says as she steadies herself and blows her bangs into the air. "Ok, I dare you, Quinn Fabray, to…. um… help me out Hazel."

"I dare you to take two double shots, too, but the lime wedges have to be in Sunny's and Prama's mouths. Think you can handle that?"

_Shit, I'm a genius._

**Sunny**: Oh my God this is the best idea Hazel's had in a long time! It'll be fun, Quinn's already horny as hell, and Rachel will get so jealous they'll have to finally just… I don't know… do _something_.

"Hey, this isn't my dare. Do I have to do this?" Prama protests.

"Yes you do. Now shut it, brace your ovary, and take it like a woman," I say.

"Fine, but too graphic. Give me that lime, then."

Prama and I both have our lime wedges waiting in our mouths and I have to say it's harder to do than I thought because of it's shape and sourness.

"Here's to tonight," Quinn says. She licks her salted hand, raises her glass, taps it against the table like Rachel did, and shoots it back. She shudders out loud. "Oh God that's terrible," she says coughing and quickly goes in to take the lime from Prama's mouth. Prama's as stiff as a tree as she let's Quinn take her lime with no contact.

"Oh no, I have another one to do. How did you make it look so easy, Rach?"

"Practice, my dear. That, and I'm not a pussy," Rachel deadpans.

Hazel doubles over in laughter. "I like this girl. Have I said that before?"

"Come on Fabray. Don't leave Sunny hanging," Rachel urges.

"Shit, ok," Quinn says as she jumps up and down a bit and slaps her cheeks lightly. "Here goes."

Quinn quickly re-salts her hand and licks it off. She unceremoniously grabs her second shot, holds her nose, and throws it back. I don't give her a chance to process what she just did. I pull her in by the neck and crash our faces together forcing the lime into her surprised mouth and keeping our lips attached. I can feel her chewing and sucking on the lime that separates our tongues causing the lime to wriggle around in my mouth. Once I think she's had enough I pull back, releasing her neck, and leaving the lime in her mouth.

"Now _that_, ladies, is how you do it," I say.

Hazel's hooting and hollering at us, while Prama's whistling with her thumb and finger in her mouth. And Rachel? Let's just say she epitomized the term jaw dropping.

**Rachel**: I think, I think I've- Drinking is fun. Yeeeeaah. I like tequila. Yummy yum yum! Hazel's so funny and Prama's soooo nice. Like a tooth fairy or- no! – like Glinda! Yeah. Like Glinda.

"You're kind of sexy, Sunny. In like this too cool for school, tough yet sensitive kind of way. Kind of like Noah. Have you met Noah before? They call him Puck, but I call him Noah, and you kind of remind me of him. Has anyone ever told you that before?" I ask genuinely because enquiring minds want to know.

"You think she's sexy?" Quinn asks me like she's falling asleep.

"I've been told I'm sexy before, but I don't know a Puck or Noah or whatever, so I'll have to say no to that one. You alright there, Rach?" Sunny asks me.

"Perfect. Tip-top. I don't think I can feel my nose, but other than that, I feel like I could run a marathon or something!"

"Huh, ok, well then, truth or dare?" Hazel asks me.

"Dare, of course."

"Ok, I have a good one," Sunny smirks, "I dare you to play spin the bottle with Quinn."

"Okay! Do you have a bottle?"

_How exciting is this?_

"Use this empty tequila bottle," Hazel says as she helpfully hands me our empty bottle of Cuervo.

"Wait, if we're the only ones playing, Rach, then-"

"Do you or don't you want to play spin the bottle with me, Quinn Fabray? If not, I'm sure someone wouldn't mind taking your place. Amirite, ladies?"

"No way. You're playing with me," Quinn says. "Spin that shit, Berry."

"Ok but don't watch it spin or else you'll throw up," _I have to warn her._ "Trust me on that one."

I spin the bottle and let it come to a stop before I open my eyes. It's pointing to the left of Quinn between her and Prama. Quinn moves quickly to her left and puts herself in front of the bottle.

"Be prepared for me to rock your world, Quinneth. I'm going to kiss you back into the Stone Age and you'll be my cavewoman forever."

"Quit the teasing and get on with the pleasing, Babs. I don't know how much longer I can wait," Quinn says. I think it's the sexiest thing she's ever voic- said to me ever today. Or maybe the week. Or even ever.

"Oh, I'm gonna give it to you, Lucy. Get over here!"

**Prama**: Ok, can someone please tell me what I'm about to watch? Rachel and Quinn are clearly drunk, no thanks to their huge head start with those two double shots. We've all been sharing a bottle of whiskey, leaving the tequila to the two of them, which they finished pretty quickly. Rachel's going to regret this in the morning and Quinn's not going to be a person.

But I have to admit, drunk Rachel's pretty funny and Quinn seems really happy being herself around the small diva.

"Oh, I'm gonna give it to you, Lucy. Get over here!"

Good god! It sounds like Rachel's reading the worst porn script of all mankind – not that I would know, of course. I'm kind of afraid for what I'm about to witness! HAALP!

**Sunny**: I've been waiting for this to happen all goddamn night long. My plan is finally working. It was too big to fail!

Quinn steps down from her bar stool and walks around the corner to stand in front of Rachel between her spread legs. The lust in their eyes is unreal and I almost think we should all leave… almost.

"You ready?" Rachel asks almost daring Quinn to make the first move.

"'Bout fucking time," Quinn answers.

Rachel smiles like the cat that caught the canary. She grabs Quinn by her belt loops and pulls her in closer, working her hands up along her waist, over her ribs, up her shoulder blades, and finally settling around Quinn's neck.

"Shit," Quinn breathes out as if we're not here. _Ok, now I'm really thinking we shouldn't be here._

Rachel's face is utter seriousness as she pulls Quinn's head closer to her own. "Close your eyes," she whispers, their lips are centimeters apart. Quinn's lids close heavily as she licks her lips. Rachel leans in, her eyes open until they make a connection. They're slow at first, as if getting to know one another, but who are we kidding? They're Rachel and Quinn and this isn't their first rodeo. That, plus the alcohol, now has Rachel opening her mouth wider, taking in all of Quinn's lower lip. You can see tongues begin to battle as their kisses become deeper. Quinn's gripping onto Rachel's hair like she can't get enough of it.

"This is the hottest make out I've ever seen," Prama says hypnotically. "It even beats that Ryan Gossling one. Do you think I should record it?"

Both girls are moaning and I don't think this is going to stop anytime soon unless one of us stops it. Now, considering I don't have a girlfriend, I'm not going to watch other people get it on because that's just not fair. It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.

"Ok! Ok! Ok! I think you've fulfilled your dare, Rach," I say clapping for emphasis.

They eventually slow their kisses down to mere grazes of the lips and rest their foreheads together. Rachel attempts to slow her breathing as Quinn smiles like a fool. "Ok," Rachel says shaking her head yes. "I think I'm done here."

Quinn looks at her with sadness, obviously hoping for more. "I said _here_, we can take it elsewhere. That is… if you want to."

"I think we have to. Something tells me your dare isn't over yet," Quinn says with a shit-eating smile.

"I think you're right. Night everyone!" Rachel calls back to us as she leads Quinn to their bedroom.

"Are they gonna do-"

"Probably, Prama," I answer her obvious question.

"Well it's about damn time, too," Hazel says. "Now, I'm going over to Guy's. After seeing all of that, I need to get me some, too. And stat!" Hazel jumps off her stool, slips on her Sperry's, grabs her purse, and rushes out the door. "Don't wait up bitches. I'll be back in the morning."

"Lucky bitches. Prama, we need to get ourselves some significant others, or at least fuck buddies. Don't you agree?"

"Seriously."

**Rachel**: "I'm going to miss you all," I say genuinely, wrapping my purse straps around the extended handle of my pink rolling suitcase.

"This weekend went by way too fast. You have to promise to come back and visit Quinn soon, and if not her, then us!" Prama says as she hugs me tightly. I think her hugs could actually rival Brittany's.

"Of course I'll return. I'm pretty sure you guys wouldn't be able to keep me away."

"Cool beans. Can we come visit you? At least on opening night?" Sunny inquires. "Because it would be so cool to actually watch you perform and say that we have a friend on Broadway."

"Certainly! I'll see how many tickets I can put on hold at will-call, although I don't think my place is big enough to fit all four of you unless you're comfortable with sleeping on the couch and the floor."

"Well Quinn can sleep with you. One of us can take the couch, and the other two can bring sleeping bags," Hazel surmises.

Quinn's eyes dart to mine and I know exactly what she's thinking. _Should she sleep with me?_

"_Or_ we can not be cheap asses and pitch in for a decent hotel room," says Sunny.

"_Or_ I can just check with my dad to see if we can use our time-share in Chelsea," Prama says nonchalantly.

"You're parents have a time-share in Chelsea?" Quinn asks amazed.

"Yeah. They own an apartment in a walkup and rent it out for short term durations. Usually people in on business or visiting artists or fashion people. He can just block a weekend as if it's already rented, no problem."

"Holy shit. Let's do that," Hazel exclaims.

"Ok you guys, get all of your hugs in. I have to take Rachel to the bus station soon," Quinn says, effectively ending our conversation.

As we make our way to her car, I can't help but replay what all I can remember from last night and wonder what it will all mean in the clear sober light of day. She must have caught me spacing out because she's snapping her fingers in front of my face.

"Earth to Rachel. Come in, Rachel."

I'm sure I looked a fool, and I can feel my cheeks flushing, which only makes me more embarrassed, if that's even possible, than before.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine, sort of. Not really, I think. It's just that I've been thinking about last night… or at least what I can remember from it. It was the third time we've kissed, and this time, neither of us pushed the other away," I admit.

Quinn makes a left and stops at the red light.

"You're right and I can't stop thinking about it either," she says shyly. "I don't even know where to begin. What exactly do you remember?"

"I remember taking an exorbitant amount of tequila shots. I remember playing truth, drink, or dare and spin the bottle. I remember both games getting particularly steamy with a certain blonde. I remember kissing you, like my life depen- like I've always wanted to and feeling the most turned on I had ever felt in my entire life. Please stop me if you disagree."

"No, you're doing just fine," she reassures me as we finally move from the longest red light in the world.

"Then I remember us going to your room…"

"Yeeeeah, we did do that."

"And the rest is kind of fuzzy from there." _I can't lay _all_ of my cards out on the table._

"Well, I don't remember a whole lot either, but I do remember picking up where we left off. We made out on my bed."

"Who was on top?"

_Dear Barbra, why is that the first question I could think of?_

"We took turns," she says demurely. "And it looks like we're here."

"Oh, that was fast. I still have half an hour. Do you mind if we wait here in the car and talk?" Please say yes, please say yes. Any reason to stay together longer.

"Of course. I couldn't dream of sending you away knowing that I could have spent more time with you, Rachel."

"Quinn Fabray, will you ever stop making me smile?"

"I wiped that smile off your face last night!"

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"You thought you were some hot shit, and you were, but you loved it when I bit you on your wrist and on the inside of your elbow."

"Is that what that mark is? I remember that now, before I thought it was just a part of some weird Vampire Diaries erotic hallucination, but that makes more sense. But, Quinn, did we… you know?"

"Not that I know of. I remember you stopped kissing my neck and started cuddling it instead. Then I was a goner and passed out."

"Thank God," I rush out. And shit, that was the wrong thing to say. "No, I didn't mean it that way, Quinn. You of all people should know that doing that with you is something that I've- never mind, it's not important. I only meant that I don't know if I could take being a cheater," I explain.

"Well, we did make out. Don't you consider that cheating?"

"Not exactly. It was an extension of a dare and the dare was part of a game. So you can't really be cheating if it's in keeping in line with the rules of a game."

"Hmm, somehow I don't think that works, Rach. Where would you draw the line?"

"At sex. Games call for kissing but not sex."

"But I cheated on Finn with Puck, so what do you think of me?"

"That was different, Quinn. You were confused and trying to prove your sexuality to yourself. That's entirely different from intentionally cheating for the sake of pleasure and self-gratification."

"But what if I wanted to cheat again? Or have had thoughts of doing it?"

"Have you acted on them?"

"Not yet."

"Then you have time to end your relationship before you officially become a cheater. And once a cheater always a cheater. You can't expect any self-respecting girl to want to date a cheater. At least, I certainly wouldn't."

"Why do you say that with such disdain, as if you know something, Rachel? Is there something I should know?"

Shit. Shit shit shit damn fuck. I wish I wasn't so easy to read. Damn my poker face dissolves around Quinn Fabray.

"I might, but I don't think it's my place to say."

"Well does it concern me?"

"Yes."

"Then it's _definitely_ your place to say," she says with conviction. "Please don't lie or withhold truths from me Rachel."

Damn, now I'm stuck between a rock and hard place.

"Ok, but don't kill the messenger. Promise?"

"Promise."

"Before I came to visit you, I went shopping in SoHo for an outfit. I recognized a girl at the end of the block from the window I was standing in front of wearing a dress I couldn't forget. The dress _you _wore for me. And then I placed her, it was Celia. Except, Celia was with another girl… and they were kissing… not on the cheek."

"Kissing how, Rachel?"

"Like I kissed you during spin the bottle?" I say more as a question than a statement.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I wanted to be wrong, but as they walked closer to me, I knew I was right. She didn't even notice me, not that she could with her face attached to that girl."

"What did she look like?" She asks coldly.

"Well, she had darker skin, in between Santana and Mercedes. She was tall and thin like all of those other model types. Her hair was jet black, long, and pulled back-"

"Into a messy side braid?" She finishes for me.

"Yeah, exactly. So you know her."

"She's a friend of hers, a model one, who she stays the night with sometimes after they have late night shoots or parties. Her name's Vanessa. She was actually with her that night I modeled that dress for you. I should have known," she says with disappointment.

"Hey, this isn't your fault. This is her undoing. I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to ruin our weekend."

"No. I'm glad you told me. I've been working up the courage to leave her and this will give me the final push I've needed. Give me a second."

I nod my head and expect for Quinn to need to take a breather, but instead she takes out her cell phone. Now's a weird time to check her email. Oh, wait…

"Let me just send her a quick text message," Quinn says with a smile on her face. She begins reading her text aloud as she types. "_I'm sure Vanessa kept you company and busy all weekend. Feel free to keep her around as much as you'd like. We're done_," she finishes in a flourish. "Geez, I feel better already."

"Quinn! Did you just break up with her over a text message? Please remind me never to piss you off!"

"Well, that's the most that bitch deserved. She was a bitch, Rach, and she was always talking shit about you. It was exhausting telling her to stop. And she was _cheating_ on me for crying out loud! She should be so lucky I didn't let her find out when I change my facebook status in a bit. I at least gave her the courtesy of hearing it from me first."

"Wow. So, you're single now," I say as it dawns on me.

"I guess I am. Single and ready to mingle… with a certain someone."

"Me. You mean me, right?"

"Well, there was this other crazy sexy brunette Broadway actress I was starting to talk to…"

"Quinn, you may be single, but I'm not."

"You don't have to remind me, Rachel, but I can wait. An opportunity with you would be too good to pass up. I've never said anything poorly about Christine, even though I think she's a conservative rich brat – believe me, I grew up with her type – who could never understand your sensitivity and kindness toward others. She doesn't appreciate you as well as I would, as well as I do. It's my fault for not being there when you threw yourself on the line, but I'm here now, and I'll be here until you're ready for me."

"What happened to all of that statistics talk?" I ask remembering the conversation that pushed me toward Christine in the first place.

"What? What do you mean?"

"After the opening night of _The Golden Grove_ you flew in from Argentina, only to tell me later that statistically, a relationship with me would have failed. Does this sound familiar?"

She looks guilty. "Yes, I remember."

"I tried to fight for us again, but you ignored me and cemented my idea to give Christine a chance."

"Fought for us? No you didn't. You said that statistics weren't always right but you wouldn't take a chance on me because I didn't take one on you. Then you said I could sleep on the couch," she defends incorrectly.

"Are you deaf? Is that what you really heard?"

"Yeah. Why would I make that up?"

"Because that's not what I said at all, Quinn. It's like you only heard what you wanted to hear. I said that statistics weren't always right, but I _would_ take a chance on you any day even if you didn't take one on me, because I'm a betting woman. I believe in luck and fate. But you didn't say anything. You just sat there still and motionless, so I took that to mean that my explanation wasn't good enough. I was so hurt, I couldn't bear to sleep in the same room with you, but I couldn't very well kick you to the curb, so I offered you my couch."

"I had no idea, Rach. No idea. I guess I did hear what I wanted to hear and created a false memory of the entire thing," she says looking dumbfounded.

"I even wrote you a letter. I stuffed it in your bag on the outside pocket, but you never responded to that either."

"Ok, now that I _know_ I didn't get. Are you sure you put it in my bag? What did it say?"

"I'm positive I put it in your bag. I even put a piece of tape on the outside that it would stick to the inside material of the pocket. It said that I was sorry for everything and that I wish things could be different." _How can she not remember any this?_ "Please tell me you read it at least."

"I never got it, Rach. I was so distraught, I was up in my head the whole time until I talked to Celia. I mentioned slightly that something was bothering me, then we talked about life."

"And you never saw it?"

"No, never."

I wonder… "Did you ever leave your bag unattended during the flight?"

"Well, I used the restroom at least once on a 10 hour flight, so yeah."

"Do you think Celia could have seen it and taken it?"

"I don't- I don't know. Maybe, but I don't know. It would explain why she was so insanely jealous of you before I even told her who you were to me."

"That bitch! I can't believe her. If you had gotten my letter, then everything could be different right now. We might be together and I wouldn't have gotten with Christine."

"Hey. It's in the past and there's nothing we can do about it now. Fucking bitch is seriously luckily I even graced her with a text. But does that change anything with us now?"

"I just can't in good conscious dismiss Christine without so much as-"

"I understand," Quinn says immediately. "That's part of what makes you so wonderful, Rach. I just, I hope that she treats you well and if she doesn't, well, let's just say I'll be watching her with a telescope."

"Aren't you the sweetest?"

"Of course I am, but what does this weekend mean for us? You have feelings for me, I know you do," she pleads with me.

"You're special to me, Quinn, and we have a… special relationship. I don't know what to call it or what will happen. I can only hope that once I'm single, you'll still be there, without resentment. And if not, then maybe, it wasn't really meant to be."

"Do you believe that?"

"I kind of have to," I answer. "I have to go now. Looks like my bus is boarding. I'll text you when I get home, okay?"

"Okay. Can I have a hug?"

"You can have more than that."

I lean across the arm rest to hug my favorite person. This will be the last time I see her in a long time so I might as well make it count. "I'll miss you," I say as I bring my lips to rest on hers. Neither of us moves against the other, nor do we have to. This amount of contact seems to be appropriate in every single way. This feels like a goodbye.


	16. Chapter 16: Truth No 2

**A/N: Hope everyone's had a good year! I'd like to send an enormous thank you to my beta, FeelingGrey, for going above and beyond her role and being an excellent Glee drinking game partner!**

* * *

**MAYBE, PERHAPS, PROBABLY SO**

**Ch. 16: Truth No. 2**

**Quinn:** "_Cobarde! Eso es lo que eres!"_

"A _coward_? How am I a coward, Celia? No, you know what? Don't answer that because it doesn't even matter. I don't know _why_ I even answered the phone."

"You answered because you know you're being an asshole."

I seriously don't have the mental capacity to deal with her and her bullshit right now, not after just dropping off Rachel. But when it rains…

"What do you want? You have 1 minute and then I'm hanging up," I say impatiently as I plop down. This random leather wingback chair off the lobby seems like as good a place as any to be yelled at over the phone.

"You have some fucking nerve, Quinn."

"What did I do now?"

"What did you _do_? You fucking broke up with me over a text message. _Text_. Message."

"_Listen up_," I say conjuring up Sue Sylvester, "You're lucky you even got _that_ after cheating on me, and don't even try to deny it. I should have known something was up sooner, but I went along with your bullshit time and time again. '_Oh, it's just a late shoot, baby.' 'I have a cocktail meeting with my agent and some people.' 'I had to come to a last minute fitting.'_ Whatever, it doesn't matter anyway."

"I'm not going to deny it. I am who I am, Quinn. But you could have at least grown a pair and done it to my face or, hell, at _least_ over the phone for Christ's sake! And– " she stops suddenly, "Why doesn't it matter?"

"You're a piece of work, you know that? Because it's _over_. That's why it doesn't matter."

"You _just _ended it."

"No, I mean it's been over. I just felt too guilty and sorry for myself to do anything about it."

"Rachel."

She didn't say her name accusingly. It's a statement that hangs in the sound waves around my ears heavily.

"Something happened between you two. Something big."

"My life isn't any of your business anymore, Celia. Have a good life and thanks for teaching me a few things. Feel free to throw away anything I left behind."

"Holy shit. Did you _fuck_ her?"

"What?! No!"

"Then… are you guys-"

"Enough! Goodbye Celia."

**Rachel**: This is the third time I've dismissed her call. Please don't look at me that way. It's just that, well, I don't know. I don't think I can see her face this soon without looking guilty, not that I _did_ anything to actually warrant said guilt, but you know what I mean. Right?

Of course you don't.

Fine. Make me say it why don't you. This weekend with Quinn was absolutely amazing. It was everything that was right with the world. I actually felt at peace and just – me. But the fact that I have to face Christine some time soon kind of terrifies me.

Ok, maybe "terrifies" isn't the best choice of words, but I am certainly not looking forward to it. I am not well versed in encounters with girlfriends after "almost but not technically cheating" cheating on them.

Maybe… maybe I can speak to someone who is.

**Christine**: Weird. Rachel is being weird.

She says that her trip went fine and that she had a good time. And I totally believe her, but I feel like she's giving me the "parents' version." You know, like when you go to a crazy party, get drunk, lose your phone, puke on an expensive Persian rug, have sex with your ex's best friend while your ex is in the other room, find your phone, and come home with someone else's panties on… and you tell your parents you went to a fun little party, played some Yahtzee, and ate pizza.

Parents' version.

But I'm not her parent. And if there's anything she knows about me, it's that at my core, the journalist in me wants all the facts. No, not wants, needs. I need all the facts.

She said her and that stupid slut "bonded." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Sounds like a euphemism for fucking all weekend to me, but I can't jump to conclusions.

I just, I _don't_ like people messing with my _things_! I've never been good at sharing… which is probably why I'm an only child. I told my parents as soon as I could vocalize it that I was to be the last. Naturally… they listened.

Was it our fight? It was just a tiff, nothing major. So I got a little upset. Doesn't everyone. Besides, I already apologized so what more does she want?

Do _you_ know what happened this past weekend? You would tell me if I needed to worry, right?

**Rachel**: Christine has been so sweet when I called her from my apartment after I got home, but I couldn't find it in myself to tell her what truly transpired between Quinn and me. So… I told her an abridged version, which is technically the truth.

Quinn and I _did_ bond over my trip. You know that as well as I do. We've bonded so well, she's actually considering visiting me in a week's time. She's going to visit Sunny and figured she'd stop by the City for a day and see me on her way down to Florida.

I must admit, I didn't expect to see Quinn so shortly, but I absolutely love surprises and can't wait to see her.

Also, rehearsals have begun and are progressing quite… naturally. It's a nice organic feeling. My leading man is a great asset to the cast and has quickly become my second Kurt. His name is Leo and his boyfriend, excuse me, _partner_, Jerry is painfully shy yet endearing.

Speaking of partners… Christine. I just, I need time.

**Noah**: Sup? I'm Puck, but I'm sure you already knew that. My baby mama must have mentioned me a few times.

Anyway, I'm here because of my sexy fellow Jew. Not gonna lie, it was kind of random that she called me, but I thought it was cool that she hasn't forgotten about the ol' Puckasaurus what with her being in New York and all.

Naturally, I gave her advice on the one topic Puck knows best: ladies.

Apparently Rachel's never seen two chicks at once… or dudes, or whatever she's into. Whatever, two _people_ at once like on the level, not like with that St. James kid and Finn, but like with actual feelings and shit. Which I have to say, is totally hot. Can you imagine Rachel with two chicks? She wouldn't say their names, but I'd like to imagine her with a blonde or maybe a redhead. After all, Puck's an equal opportunity employer.

Anyway, she wanted to know what to do when you like, do stuff with one, and then go back to the other.

White lies, babe. Easy. Tell her the truth without telling her the truth you know. It's not totally a lie, right? So you can't get in trouble for it. Besides, who can it hurt?

Man, New York's really made Berry a rock star. I'm impressed.

**Quinn**: You don't think two weeks is too soon, do you?

_Fuck_, I do, too.

Sunny invited me to come visit her before the summer ended. It's not my fault that there happened to be a last minute sale on plane tickets to Miami so soon, but that was part of the deal. I pay for airfare and her family would pick up everything else. I argued with her, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

So my flight happens to be out of JFK, that's also just a coincidence. Besides, I'll only be there a day, technically. No big deal.

Hopefully I won't have to see that witch she calls a girlfriend, but knowing my luck that won't happen.

Whatever. At least I'll get to see Rachel.

**Rachel**:

_You don't like the sound of the truth coming from my mouth._

_You say that I lack the proof, well baby that might be so._

"What on _earth_ are you singing?" Christine shouts at me with her fingers in her ears. I immediately take my earbuds out.

"What?" I ask.

"What were you just singing? It sounded terrible," she says sounding peeved and somewhat relieved as she removes her fingers.

_What was I singing? How does she not know?_

"I was singing the Dixie Chicks, of course."

"The who?"

"The Dixie Chicks. You know, the country band." _Goodness, how dense can this woman be?_

"Country? Since when do you listen to country?" she says with a look of horror disfiguring her face.

"I make it a point to listen to all genres of music, Christine. One cannot truly say they love music until they give all genres of it, a chance. Besides, I appreciate their tight _a cappella_ style, complex harmonies, and heartbreaking stories. It's like a mini Broadway story, but with more banjos and guitars. Why, even Santana and Brittany did their own rendition of _Landslide_, originally made famous by Fleetwood-"

"You cannot be serious."

"Please do not cut me off mid-sentence. That's extremely rude and I'm dead serious. Our show has a few country inspired numbers. This is both research and pleasure."

"I don't know what to say. I think you may have literally become less attractive right in front of my eyes," she says astonished.

"_Excuse me?_ _What_ did you just say?" I demand. I feel as if I've just been slapped in the face. Hard.

Believe me, I'd know.

"I mean, I- I just," she attempts to say, but even words refuse to defend her.

"Are you seriously suggesting that because I enjoy country music I am unattractive and less than? You're judging _me_ based on one of the many musical genres I love?"

"I- well, I-"

"You are absolutely incredible, Christine Eliza Bellefleur. _Fucking_ outstanding! Are you so high and mighty that you cannot associate someone who likes country music as being desirable? Do you think I'm some sort of _hillbilly_ all of a sudden?"

_I cannot believe this woman!_

"No. No, Rachel. I'm sorry, that's not what I meant," she finally stammers. Looks like the spirits have decided to grant her the ability to speak. "I shouldn't have said that. I can't believe I said that. I'm sorry. I don't like country music, but I was just so shocked that my little diva Broadway Jewish princess likes country music. I'd believe you know all the words to a Jay-Z song before country."

"As a matter of fact, I've committed Watch the Throne to memory. And I don't care if you 'meant' to say anything, the fact of the matter is you thought it. Your vocalization just hurts all the more."

"Shit. Rach, I'm sorry, honey. I really didn't mean it like that. I'm just an idiot. And if you like these Chicks from Winn Dixie, then maybe there's something to them that I've been missing out on."

"They're the **Dixie Chicks**," I reiterate. She's not helping her cause here.

"Isn't that what I said?"

_Oh my God. Finn 2.0._

"No. You said Chicks from Winn Dixie, not the Dixie Chicks."

"That's not the same thing?"

_Seriously!_

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. Please don't make 'The Face.' The Dixie Chicks. You're right. I'm wrong. Please don't be mad at me. I hate it when you leave mad at me. Just… forget I said anything."

"Oh no, Christine Eliza. You're not getting away with it that easily. You just insulted a great band and an entire genre of music and _me._"

"So educate me, Rachel. Show me what I'm missing because if you like this, then clearly I'm wrong. Please, I don't want us to be fighting, especially not before we have dinner with Quinn tomorrow."

_Ugh. _

"Fine. I _do_ want to have an enjoyable time while Quinn is here. And I will educate your ignorant musical ear, but do not expect me to call you honey or give you any affection for the next day or so. I'm still highly offended," I finish with a huff for emphasis.

"Of course. Thank you, baby."

"I think it's time I go now. Goodnight, Christine," I say as I gather my scripts from the chaise I was lounging on.

"Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you call me Eli anymore?"

"Pardon?"

"You used to call me Eli, but you haven't in the longest time. I was just wondering why."

"I don't know, I never really noticed to be honest. I haven't really put much thought to it."

"Oh. Well, goodnight then. Get home safe and text me when you get there, please."

**Quinn**: Call me a psychic, the she-witch is joining us for lunch. She-witch chose some pretentious little bistro in a pretentious neighborhood full of pretentious people. Even the waiter looks like he could give a shit about us. I'd love to skip out of here and find a place where people actually smile and never had a personal driver. How does Rachel stand being in these kinds of places all the time?

"The duck confit is supposed to be excellent, Quinn. It's served with fingerling potatoes in a bacon broth. I think you'll love it!"

"Thanks, Rach. I was actually just looking at that one," I say with an appreciative smile.

The white table clothed square couldn't be more appropriate, unless they happen to have a triangularly shaped table lying around here somewhere in a spare room. Rachel's sitting to my left while Christine sits directly across from me. There's a gorgeous bundle of three white anemones in the center of the table. If Christine weren't here, it'd look as if Rachel and I were on a date, but God must hate me or something. Baby, car crash, terrible cheating girlfriend…

"It's actually one of my favorite dishes, Quinn. You should try it. But my most favorite thing to eat is Rachel and I don't share," the she-witch shoves down my throat.

_What? That's what I heard. Moving on._

"Are we ready here, Ms. Bellefleur?" Pretentious waiter asks the she-witch.

"Rach, are you ready?" I ask loudly enough to catch his attention. Seriously, as if there aren't other people at the table. Douche.

"Yes, I am. Thank you for asking, Q."

"We're ready to order… Geoff," I say, taking my time to read his silver-plated name tag. Even the way he spells his name is pretentious.

"Very well, Miss…?"

Touché, Geoff, but this isn't my first rodeo either.

"Miss Fabray. Please Rachel, why don't you start us off?" I suggest. There's no way I'm going to let this assbag ignore us and play kiss ass to the she-devil.

Rachel looks so cute whenever she orders. She's always so polite yet contemplative and appreciative. I can't help but swoon. It also doesn't help that her top has a diamond cut out on her chest area and her cleavage is just out in the open for the taking and…

"And for you, _Miss_ _Fabray_?" He says annoyed. Ass.

"I'll have whatever she's having, _Geoff_," I say while staring him in the eyes and reaching over to touch Rachel's hand. "That should be all."

"Quinn, what about your poor little duck cooked in his own fat with vegetables slathered in pigs?" Rachel says with one hand to her chest and the other gripping my hand firmly in mock surprise.

"I hear what you eat can affect the way you taste and I'd hate to spoil anyone's _appetite_."

_Ok, so maybe that was a little ballsy, but Rachel and I have a… thing. I'm not exactly sure what we're doing, but I can't help but want to piss off this she-whore_.

"Is that why you're going to Miami, then? Going to let some women taste you? There are a lot of Latin women there. That is what you're into, isn't it?" The she-witch strikes below the belt quickly.

"Christine! That's absolutely uncalled for! Apologize this instance," Rachel says truly aghast.

"No, Rachel, it's ok. I can defend myself. Not that my life is _any_ of your business, but for your information, I'm going to Miami to visit my roommate and her family. You know, _friends_. They're these people that like you for who you are and enjoy being in your company. You should try making one sometime."

"Ah, of course," she says throwing her head back.

"More water, ladies?" Geoff asks but proceeds to fill our glasses without an answer. "And your Bellini, Ms. Bellefleur."

"Quinn! Can we all just have a civilized conversation over lunch, please?" Rachel pleads while looking at us both like a disappointed school teacher.

"Bread for the table," Geoff says as he quickly leaves a basket.

"Geoff, is this bread vegan?" I ask before he's taken two steps.

"Yes, ma'am they are."

"Thank you, Geoff," she-slut says as if she did anything. "It's too bad they don't have the rye bread today. It's Rachel's favorite. Isn't that right sweetie?"

"From here, yes it is."

"But we all know Rachel's favorite bread is corn bread with little bits of corn in it," I counter.

"Of course it is. Just like Rachel's favorite color is sunshine yellow," the she-whore counters back.

If this bitch thinks she can win the Rachel's Favorites game, she has another thing coming.

**Rachel**: Good grief! It's flattering how well they both know me… it's actually quite alarming how _much_ they know about me… but this pissing contest has to end sometime before they start arm wrestling.

"Aren't these flowers beautiful?" I interject.

"What? Oh, yes! They're anemones, just like the ones I got you for your first ever opening night," Christine comments reverently.

"Well they're as lovely today as they were then."

"You got her anemones for her opening night? Do you know what those flowers even mean?" Quinn asks with a smile like a cat who's cornered its mice.

"No, actually. I never bothered to research its meaning. I chose a beautiful flower for a beautiful girl," Christine answers defensively.

"Well then that must be fate. Anemones mean estrangement, or more correctly 'I no longer find you appealing.' You _sure _know how to pick 'em," Quinn says with a look of triumph.

"_What_? How was I supposed to know that? I didn't mean anything by it, Rachel. I honestly thought they were unique and beautiful, just like you. And what did you get her? Some $2 carnations from the corner store?"

"Of course not. I chose the same flower she once gave me – gardenias," Quinn said coolly.

"And those mean…?"

"Oh, look! Our food's here! Let's dig in, shall we," I interrupt.

I wish Geoff would take his time doling out our meals but he's moving at the speed of light. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to be stuck between these two either, but I don't have the choice of running back into the kitchen like he does. You would think that I would be happy having two beautiful blonde successful popular women fighting over me, but instead I feel like a used toy being pulled from both sides. I'm afraid I'll rip at the seams.

"Never mind. I'll look it up myself," Christine says as she pulls out her iPhone. "What is the meaning of a gardenia?" she speaks into it.

"Checking on that. Ok, Eli, here you go," Siri says.

"I'll just read whatever the first page says. The gardenia means…" her eyes are scanning the screen quickly.

"You should try your duck before it gets cold, Christine," I interject once more.

"It means 'you are lovely' or 'secret love.' And… and you gave this to Quinn first?" She asks unbelievingly.

"Gave? Well, see, the thing is that I, well, I never gave her any flowers. So no," I answer. That is the truth after all.

"Well why would she say you did?" She refers to Quinn as if we're not all sitting at the same table.

"Well you see, at the time Quinn was going to the prom with Finn and he didn't know what kind of corsage to get her… so I suggested it."

"So, of all the flowers you could have chosen, you chose that one?"

"Yes, I thought it would have gone lovely with her dress and it did," I try to explain as gently as I can. Why is she doing this now?

**Christine**: "Who's Rachel's favorite country artist?" I ask. She can't possibly know the answer to this one.

"Well, it's not Carrie Underwood," Quinn begins to eliminate.

"It's the Dixie Chicks, but it doesn't surprise me that you don't know that," I say. I finally nailed that bitch with that one.

"You only learned that yesterday, Christine, and don't act as if I've forgotten about that whole ordeal," Rachel says with a clipped tone.

Fuck. Can't I just win one?

"So then clearly you should know what Rachel's favorite thing to do is in the winter," that Yaley says trying to one up me.

"Easy. Ice skate. She lives for the matching ear muffs and gloves. Don't you sweetie?"

"That's where _you're_ wrong, Bellefleur. Rachel loves making snow angels because the angels are some of the closest beings to the stars," Quinn says with her stupid mouth.

"Qu- Quinn, how did you know that? I don't think I've ever told you that," Rachel says with wonder, stopping her fork midair.

"Finn told me you tried to get him to make some with him, when he tried to get me to make one with him."

_UGH! I can't let her win!_

**Geoff**: "Is everything to your satisfaction ladies?" I ask because that's what you have to do if you want a good tip.

"_Well Rachel scrunches her toes when she_ _**comes**_!" The Bellefleur girl shouts. "Put it on my father's tab, Geoff!" she says and throws her napkin at my chest on her way out.

What the hell just happened here?

"I'll come back in a bit."

**Quinn**: Holy shit. God damnit! Did that just happen? I did _not_ need to know. Not from her. Not like that. I'd rather find out myself.

_Fuck!_

Why did she have to say that and make Rachel sound like a… like a cheap thing?

"I cannot believe she said that," Rachel says without emotion. "And in front of all of these people? I'm so embarrassed. I can never show my face here again. Excuse me, Quinn, I have to go."

"She's a bitch, Rachel, and fuck these people and what they think. I still think-"

"I don't _care_ what you think! I need to get out of here now!"

She doesn't care? Ouch.

"Let's go, then," I say.

"I cannot believe her," she utters as she quickly makes her way to the exit. "That is an intimate fact meant to be kept secret between lovers. And to say that in front of you no less."

_I can't believe _you_._

* * *

**A/N2: Rachel was singing "Truth No. 2" by the Dixie Chicks.**


End file.
